


Moss and Steel

by QueenOfCarrotFlowers



Series: Carrot's Romance Fics [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Rise of Kylo Ren (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robin Hood Fusion, Bisexual Ben Solo, Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Historical Inaccuracy, Maid Marian Ben, Politics, Robin Hood Rey, Untagged Side Pairings, Untagged background characters, bisexual rey, past Ben/Tai, past Rey/Rose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/pseuds/QueenOfCarrotFlowers
Summary: A retelling of Robin Hood in which Ben is a ward of the king and Rey is the famous outlaw Rey-with-the-hood.Once upon a time, a young man was traveling from London to Nottingham when his party was accosted by a group of thieves.The young man - Benedict Solo by name, son of the Constable of the Tower and nephew of the Bishop of London - knew something about thieves, having been born and raised in the city of London, but even though he'd heard about them he was sheltered enough to never have come face to face with one. So he was a bit shocked when the door to his carriage was wrenched open and a person hopped inside.
Relationships: Ben Solo & Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Carrot's Romance Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801348
Comments: 164
Kudos: 90
Collections: Queerly Beloved Reylo Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melusine11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine11/gifts), [flypaper_brain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flypaper_brain/gifts).



> I have wanted to write a Robin Hood AU where Rey is Robin Hood and Ben is Maid Marian _forever_ and last night I was playing [Root](https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/237182/root) with my family and this story dropped into my head fully formed. 
> 
> A bit of housekeeping: In this story Rose is Rey's ex-lover and Tai is Ben's ex-lover, so if that makes you uncomfy please don't read it! They won't be together in this story but it will definitely be mentioned. Rey is disguised as a man throughout the fic, although Ben figures out her secret fairly early on (and he's not complaining).
> 
> I'm gifting this to Melusine11 and flypaper_brain, for being so encouraging about this story! fly also betas it, although any mistakes are my own.

Once upon a time, a young man was traveling from London to Nottingham when his party was accosted by a group of thieves.

The young man - Benedict Solo by name, son of the Constable of the Tower and nephew of the Bishop of London - knew something about thieves, having been born and raised in the city of London, but even though he'd heard about them he was sheltered enough to never have come face to face with one. So he was a bit shocked when the door to his carriage was wrenched open and a person hopped inside.

The person was a thief, without any doubt. Ben knew that the intruder wasn't a member of the party. There weren't many of them, only two carriages - the other carriage which bore the young man's uncle, the person responsible for the current situation - along with the drivers, and four knights of the realm, but the knights were strong and trusted, and he could hear them shouting and the clash of blades outside the carriage walls.

"Hello there!" the thief said with a smile, crouching on the empty bench across from Ben. At least, he thought the thief smiled; his voice sounded like a smile, a warm, lilting sort of sound. Perhaps the thief’s eyes turned up slightly at the corner, which could also have given that impression. They were nice eyes, Ben couldn’t help but notice, even as his body clenched in fear. The rest of the thief was covered, with a cloth mask drawn over his mouth and nose and a leather hood pulled over his head, hiding his hair. He was dressed in breeches and a tunic of a muted greenish brown, which reminded Ben of the soft moss that grew on the rocks along the river Thames, and which was similar to the coloring of his eyes - his fine eyes, eyes that danced as he looked Ben up and down.

“Well you are a pretty thing, aren’t you?” The thief declared, which sent a rush of blood both to Ben’s cheeks, and to other parts of his body as well. Not even his companion Tai had called him _pretty_ , and he was embarrassed by how his body reacted to the judgment of this strange, enticing, cheeky young man.

“Who are you?” He said. “What do you want?”

At that moment something crashed into the side of the carriage, accompanied by a great shout - it sounded like Ren on his horse was in a great battle out there - and Ben took that opportunity to finally reach for the knife which he kept tucked into a sheath in his boot. 

But before his hand even reached past his knee the tip of a dagger was pressed into the soft spot where his chin met his neck, and the eyes of the thief - no less fine, although now they reminded him of a steel blade more than soft moss - flashed only inches away from his own. The thief smelled vaguely of flowers, of air and trees and living things - with a strong undercurrent of old sweat - and although Ben was afraid he found that he wasn’t only afraid.

“I’m nobody,” the thief whispered, a dark warning in his voice. “Give me your purse, before I have to mar that pretty face of yours. It would be a shame.” His eyes flicked down to Ben’s mouth and back up very quickly. “You have a lovely mouth.” The thief’s eyes widened, as though he was surprised he’d said that out loud. Ben’s cock pulsed in his trousers, and he was grateful that his coat was long enough to completely cover his front. He hated to think about what the thief would think of him, if he knew what state he was in right now.

Ben held his breath while he untied the leather purse from his belt; the thief grabbed it from his hand and shoved it into the satchel draped across his back. Dagger returned to its sheath, the thief bowed.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Master Solo. And welcome to Nottinghamshire!”

And just like that he was gone, and the sounds of the fight quickly faded as the rest of the thieves rode away with him.

Seconds later the carriage door opened again and Sir Ren stuck his head in. He was helmed, a blank metal panel covering his face. Ben hated Ren’s helmet, a fact that only amused Ren and caused him to leave it on in circumstances where he might otherwise take it off.

“My Lord. Are you safe? Unhurt?”

“The thief took my gold, but he didn’t hurt me.”

The knight grunted. “Just your pride, I suppose. One of them took your uncle’s purse, and they were able to take most of the trunks. You’ll be glad to hear that they spared your clothing.”

The sneer in Ren’s voice was palpable, as sour as the thief’s voice had been sweet.

“Who were they?” Ben asked, before the other man could pull himself out of the doorway.

“Local outlaws. Call themselves the _Merry Men_. Apparently they’ve been making things difficult for the Sheriff for a few months but I wasn’t expecting any trouble from them, considering we’re an official transport guarded by four knights.”

“They’re brave, then.” 

Ben thought about the thief’s mossy eyes, steel fire, and shivered.

Sir Ren snorted. “More like foolhardy. Reckless. The Sheriff will get them eventually, and we’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about them.”

Ben bit back his impulse to respond that he wasn’t worried, and the knight shut the door, leaving Ben by himself with his thoughts and his distinct lack of worry. The carriage jerked forward and Ben took advantage of the solitude, reaching into his breeches and thinking about the thief, his lilting voice and the fire in his eyes. It hurt less than thinking about Tai, left alone in London; after a few minutes, it didn’t hurt at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say there was going to be smut.
> 
> (Potential warning for Ben thinking about Tai at intimate moments! Just want to prepare you for that.)

Ben Solo had been in residence at the castle for almost two months - enough time for the sweet spring to shift into a hot and humid summer. Ben was used to hot summers, and he thought the relative country of Nottinghamshire stank somewhat less than the city, but he still disliked it. Back home, at the Tower, he would spend his days reading in the library, or copying texts in the scriptorium, or walking up and down the promenade and just thinking, talking - Tai his constant companion all the while. Tai was the son of a noblewoman from France, some distant cousin of the king, and had been sent over as a ward of the king when he was very small. Being very close to Ben’s age they had quickly become fast friends, and as they grew into adulthood they had become… Ben still wasn’t sure. Something else. They were still friends, but long walks together had led to holding hands and stolen kisses; Ben Solo was almost thirty years old, and by the time he left London for Nottingham he’d been sharing his bed with Tai for years.

They wrote letters, but it wasn’t the same, and although Ben missed Tai he had a lot to keep him occupied. Sir Ren, who had accompanied him up from London with his uncle and three other knights, had stayed when the others had left, ostensibly to help the Sheriff with the uprising in the forest, but he’d also taken it upon himself to teach Ben how to swordfight. Ben had learned as a child, of course, and he’d even been quite good, but he’d been allowed to forget it in his quest for knowledge.

He was surprised to discover that Ren had grown up in Nottinghamshire, and had started his knighthood there; he’d only been sent down to London some eighteen years before.

“Aye,” he’d said when Ben asked him about it after one of his lessons, while the other student - a sour, ginger-haired man called Hux - gathered up their weapons and put them away. “Sent here from my father’s house in Picardy as a child.”

“Picardy!” Ben had exclaimed. “That’s near Paris. I’d love to go to Paris someday, and study at the University there. Have you been there?”

The knight, unhelmed for once, had spat in the dirt at that; Hux echoed his disdain with a bitter chuckle. “Never been, never want to be. I prefer the wilds of England to Paris any day.”

Ben had pressed on. “But Ren isn’t a French name, is it?”

Ren answered with a laugh. “Ren is not my given name. But my father abandoned me, so I abandoned his name, and now I am just Ren.”

Ben couldn’t blame the man for abandoning his name; Ben supposed that if it were possible, he would do the same thing.

* * *

On this particular day - a Wednesday in the middle of July - Ren had business with the Sheriff all day, so Ben was left to his own devices. He decided to leave the castle and go riding. He would rather sit and read, it was true, but he’d already read most of the books in the library, and even the ones already being copied in the scriptorium (although the scribes disliked this practice very much, and discouraged him when they caught him in the act), so it was either go riding or wander around and hope he didn’t run into Hux.

After not even an hour it was clear that he’d overdressed; he’d left early enough that there was still a slight chill in the air, but by the time he reached the edge of Sherwood Forest he was sweating through his woolen jacket, and his thighs and backside were already beginning to feel chafed. He was just considering heading back to the castle when he remembered Ren mentioning a spring that fed a small pool, somewhere along the border with the forest. If his bearings were right - and Ben did have a very good sense of direction - he figured it should be not too far north from where he was. He dismounted and walked his steed - Taciturnus was the animal’s name, so named because he was very large and very calm; he had come all the way from London, too. They wandered slowly north, just skirting the edge of the forest, and Ben took the time to enjoy the soft breeze that came to him through the trees, bringing along with it the soft scent of green and the delicate sound of birdsong.

Ben could tell when he was getting close to the spring, because he could hear the sound of splashing. He thought at first that it was the spring itself, emptying into the pool, but it was clearly too irregular, stopping and starting at uneven intervals as man and horse approached. The pool was hidden behind a circle of rock, some old daggers of stone that had been shoved up out of the earth some unknown time before, perhaps by the shoulders of giants attempting to will their way out of the ground. In any case he had plenty of time to listen to the sound before he rounded the cliff and found himself face to face with the thief he’d met on his first day in Nottinghamshire.

Ben knew now that the thief had a name - his name was Rey, and he was the leader of the gang of outlaws, robbers, and brigands who had settled in Sherwood Forest and who apparently called themselves the Merry Men. Ben didn’t think they sounded very merry; they broke into houses, even into the castle itself, stealing gold and food and anything they could get their hands on, and they took it into the forest and piled it up for their own use - and yet the people in the surrounding villages refused to cooperate with the Sheriff’s men to bring them to justice. They were a pain in the side of the Sheriff, and the castellan, and Ben happened to know that it was concern about the Merry Men in particular that had drawn Sir Ren out of the castle today and given Ben this rare day of leisure. Ben frequently thought about Rey, and he’d wondered if he might ever see the young man again, but it was still shocking to find him neck deep in the middle of a pool, apparently both unarmed and completely naked.

The thief gazed across the water at Ben, his hair - reddish-brown, as close as Ben could tell given how wet he was - stuck to his scalp like a coif, rivulets of water streaming down his face. His own surprise passed quickly; as he wiped the water out of his eyes, his mouth transformed into a wry smirk.

“Well hello there, pretty maid. I see they finally let you out of the castle, although you're still dressed quite finely.”

Rey’s hands circled around in front of him, just under the surface of the water, and Ben watched him, imagining the rest of his body. Strong and lithe, with long limbs and a slender torso. He stared, and Rey stared back at him, finally breaking the silence with a laugh.

“Oh dear, what have they done to you up in that castle? Stolen your tongue? Your will to live?”

“No,” he said, standing stupidly while Taciturnus took a few steps so he could bury his face in the pool. “They let me out.” Such a stupid thing to say. “I was just taking a ride.” Obviously.

Rey hummed and began to move backwards, towards where the spring trickled out from a crack in the rock and dripped into the water, making a melodious sound that Ben could finally hear, on this side of the rock face.

“It’s a hot day for a ride,” Rey commented, his back finally coming into contact with the rock wall. “And the pool is so very pleasant and cool.”

Ben swallowed, trying desperately to ignore how his cock was thickening under his breeches. 

“What are you suggesting, Rey?”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Oh, I see you’ve heard of me, then.”

“Yes, you’re Rey. Rey-with-the-hood, they call you. You’re the leader of the Merry Men.” 

Rey’s eyes, as beautifully green-brown as ever, glittered with amusement, and he gave a sardonic bow, as well as he could considering he was neck-deep in water.

“At your service, Benedict Solo.”

Ben left the horse to his drink and stepped to the edge of the pool. There was a large, flat stone off to his right, where he could see Rey’s clothing, breeches and shirt and boots and hood, folded neatly, alongside his dagger and a mean-looking staff.

"Just Ben," he said, and Rey nodded. “You knew my name when we met before. In the carriage.”

“When we attacked your traveling party. When I stole your purse and abstained from slicing your face open. Yes I did. I know everything that happens in the castle.”

Rey eyed Ben warily as he walked over to the rock, but relaxed when he unbuckled his own belt, along with his scabbard and blade, and set them down, placing his hat alongside.

“You have spies.” Ben didn’t ask; he was sure it was true. 

Rey had not stopped his slow movements, which stirred the surface of the water just around him, small ripples that met the ripples of the spring and sent out yet more of them, the entire surface of the pool a shining, rippling mirror of the bright blue sky. 

“Of course we have spies,” he answered with a snort. “Don’t you?”

Ben had no idea. “Of course we do.”

They lapsed into silence again while Ben tossed aside his cape and unbuttoned his black wool coat, threaded with gold - it was, indeed, very fine - folded it carefully, and set it down next to his belt. Next came his shirt, white linen, which he pulled over his head in one stroke after ensuring the laces were loose enough. He had to lean against the rock to pull off his boots, and he glanced at Rey from the corner of his eye as he did so. Rey was watching intently, and Ben was certain that his cheeks were pinker than they had been earlier. Once Ben’s boots and socks were off he unlaced his trousers, and then they were down and off. He took his time folding them up with the rest of his clothes, but he watched Rey while he did it. When he was done he stood at the edge of the pool and held his arms out to the side, and waited for Rey to say something. He was proud of his body, even when he had been in residence in London he had enjoyed running and climbing and horse riding, but since coming to Nottingham his training with the sword had made him stronger, gifted him with more muscles. And his cock, while it wasn’t yet hard, hung long and thick down his thigh. He thought about touching it, taking it in his palm and giving it a stroke to show it off, but decided that would probably be too much. 

His only actual experience was with Tai, but he’d seen enough other men naked to know that he measured up well against most. It would depend on Rey’s preferences, of course; Ben himself was willing to mount or be mounted, whichever Rey desired. And of course there need not be any mounting at all; hands and mouths were enjoyable, too, and much less messy. 

But Ben’s imagination was getting ahead of him. He hadn’t even touched Rey yet, and there was time.

It took a few moments for Rey to gather his thoughts; Ben was proud to have, apparently, rendered him speechless. His cheeks were flushed as his eyes grazed over Ben, from his head to his toes, resting for a few extra beats on his cock, which released a warm bloom of pride in his chest, and something else; he felt more naked than naked under the young man’s lustful gaze. Rey licked his lips before speaking. 

“You are a pretty maid.” His voice was slightly deeper than before, and soft, and he lifted his hands up above his head, gripping the rock face with his fingers, although the water still didn’t dip below his collar bone.

“Am I?” Ben stepped up onto the rock, careful to avoid their piles of clothes and weapons. "Do you like pretty maids? Real maids?"

Rey's eyebrows raised. “Do you?”

Ben shrugged. “I’ve never been with one, but the thought of it does not disgust me.”

Rey nodded thoughtfully. "I do like pretty maids. But I like you, too."

“And I like you. Too much, considering you robbed me and you're an enemy of the crown. But you are a handsome youth. I thought so in the carriage, too.”

“I’m glad you did.” The ghost of a frown played at the corners of Rey’s mouth. “I hope you will still think so, after you come into the water.”

Ben laughed at his sudden concern. “What, you think you’re not so appealing up close? I promise you are. I’ve seen your eyes from inches away, and there are few other pairs of eyes I should like to see at that distance.”

“But we’re enemies,” Rey said, deeper worry threading his voice. “We shouldn’t. What if Sir Ren found out?”

“Why are you anxious about Sir Ren all of a sudden?” Ben found Rey’s hasty change of mind confusing. “What about the Merry Men? Would they despise you, if they thought you took a dip in the prince’s ward?”

“No, but-” The rest of Rey’s reply was cut short by a splash, as Ben dived into the water and swam across the pool, bursting out of the surface right in front of Rey, and grabbing his wrists to pin his arms above his head.

The water was cold, it shocked Ben’s heated skin and got in his eyes and caused his long hair to hang in his face. Without the aid of his hands he had to shake his head to get it out of his face, and he took the moment to press his body against Rey’s, pinning him to the slick, cool rock behind him. They were so close together that Ben could feel Rey’s heart beating, swift and harsh. That wasn’t all that he could feel, or not feel.

Displeased with the shaking, he wiped his face against his arms, and stared down at Rey. Rey stared right back up, eyes wide and full of fear despite the golden reflection of the ripples in the pool. Ben pressed forward again experimentally, and tipped his chin down to focus on the place where their chests pressed together just at the waterline. 

“You,” Ben said dumbly. “You. Have.”

“I can explain,” Rey replied quickly, wriggling and tugging, but not quite hard enough to escape. The movement did nothing to discourage Ben’s erection, which was sandwiched solidly between them, pressing against Rey’s stomach, growing despite the chill of the water. Ben leaned back slightly, showing more clearly what laid between them: two round, soft, and - Ben had to admit - _perfect_ breasts.

“You’re a maid.” 

Rey’s response was water on burning oil.

“I am _not_ a maid,” she snarled, squirming harder, which forced Ben to tighten his hold on her wrists and press against her again, “nor am I a _wench_ or a _lady_ or whatever thing you wish to call me.”

“You have breasts.” 

Rey huffed and stilled, turning her head to the side and raising her chin in defiance.

“I do have breasts. Do you have a problem with breasts?”

“I don’t think so.” Ben leaned back again so he could take another look. Her chest was flushed, the nipples a darker brown, and they were quite hard and poked out, larger than a man’s nipples. Ben thought they looked like they might make a fine mouthful. He wondered if Rey would like that. He shifted his hands to grip both of Rey’s wrists in his left and cupped her left breast in his right palm. She moaned softly, and he squeezed the mound gently, tweaking the nipple. Her hips bucked against him under the water, and she moaned again more loudly. That was interesting. “No, not a problem,” he murmured, giving her breast another squeeze. “I quite like them.”

“Oh,” she said, his approval giving her back a bit of her bravado. “I quite like yours as well.” 

Ben chuckled at that, and his hand continued its journey down Rey’s body, over her ribs to her stomach and finally into the forest of curls that nested between her legs.

“I don’t have a cock,” she whispered, lifting her leg up and crooking it over Ben’s hip as he delved deeper with his fingers.

“You have something else, though, don’t you,” he replied, trying to figure out what he was feeling without the benefit of sight. Not having touched a woman’s cunt before he wasn’t sure what to make of the various bits his fingers came across down there, soft and rough together. The softest bits reminded him of the petals of a flower, and he decided that’s what it was - Rey’s little flower. 

“Is that what you think?” She said with a breathy laugh. “A flower?” He’d said it out loud without meaning to. He struggled for a response, but she chuckled again. “Don’t worry. I like it. Now, move.”

She shifted her hips as though reaching for his cock, and he moved his hand up to her hip.

“Just rub against me, see what that does.” There was a gentle pleading in Rey’s voice that Ben couldn’t bring himself to deny, so he maneuvered himself between her legs and returned his hand to her breast and pressed his mouth to hers - a thing that he had been thinking about doing since well before he arrived at the pool.

Her lips were surprisingly soft, and she deepened the kiss almost immediately, opening her mouth and pressing her tongue against his teeth. He had no choice but to reciprocate, and he spent several moments familiarizing himself with her lips and tongue and breast, and the noises she made as he stroked his cock against the slick smoothness at the very apex of her thighs. 

It felt good to Ben - not good enough to climax, and the strange newness of Rey’s body was a bit distracting too, just because he felt so unsure about what he was doing - but it seemed to work for Rey. She reminded him again of an animal, a kitten attacking a hand, with her nips and growls and moans, and her demanding hips. It wasn’t all that long before she cried out and shuddered against him, and when he let her arms go she threw them around his neck, and her legs around his waist, and kissed him until he had to push her away so he could breathe.

“Take me out of the water,” she demanded, clinging to him more tightly and burying her face into his neck. “I want to do more.”

Rey was strong but she wasn’t heavy, and it didn’t take long for them to get situated on the flat rock - their clothes pushed off and into the dirt, Ben’s cape draped over it like a blanket, Rey spread out like a buffet and Ben on top of her. Ben wanted to touch every part of her with his mouth, and although he started with her lips he didn’t stay there. Cradling her head in his hands he worked his way to her ears, first, finding them soft and sweet and fine for a nibble, then down her neck to her shoulders and collarbone. Her shoulders were strong and her collarbone was delicate, and he ran his nose and lips over them as he progressed from one side to the other. While he did this she ran her fingers through his wet hair, gripped him around his middle with her legs, and let him know exactly how she felt about what he was doing to her. She was remarkably chatty, Ben thought, but he didn’t mind. 

“That feels so good,” Rey murmured when he sucked on the skin right under her ear. “Maybe a little lower…” then she gasped and shuddered when he did the same thing at the point where her neck met her shoulder. As he nuzzled his nose into the dip at the center of her collarbone she pressed her nose into his hair. “You smell wonderful,” she said, “you and your hot baths and your fine soaps. Such a maid.”

“I would give you a hot bath,” he replied, trailing kisses further down her chest, making a beeline for the nipple of her right breast, which was practically begging to be sucked. 

“That’s a silly thing to say,” she scolded him, tugging his hair not quite enough to hurt. “Please don’t say it again.”

Ben hummed and took Rey’s nipple in his mouth by way of apology. He sucked it to the roof of his mouth and grazed the soft skin around it with his teeth, which made her whine and tug his hair again. He decided he quite liked it when she did that; he tweaked her other nipple between his fingers, and she did it again. She continued to shift her hips under him, now against his stomach since he’d moved further down, and although the movements were fairly lazy at first after several minutes on her breasts, with her whining and groaning and insulting his fine clothing she became more demanding. Lifting his head up, she cried out, “further down, move further down, _please_.”

“And why would I do that?” He asked, after releasing her nipple with a soft _pop_. She growled, apparently unamused by his feigned innocence.

“You may never have been with a woman, but you can’t be _that_ naive. I want you to put your mouth on me.”

Ben scrambled back and sat on his haunches between Rey’s legs. She helpfully grabbed her legs around the back of her knees, pulling them up to her shoulders to open her cunt up to his curious gaze. With the first fingers on both of his hands he reached down and spread her lips further apart, exposing herself to him. It was strange, but very pretty, pink and flushed, and it did appear to him as a flower, glistening in the sunbeam that fell across the stone through a break in the tree cover.

“Do you like it?” She asked, the slightest bit of uncertainty tinting her voice. That absolutely would not do.

“It’s beautiful. The most beautiful bloom.” He glanced up at her face. She looked wild, and lovely, her short hair beginning to dry and sticking up around her head, her whole body flushed, chest heaving. “How do I do it?” He asked. “I want to make you feel good.”

She chuckled and bit her lip. “With a mouth like yours I don’t think you could go wrong, but thank you for asking. Use your tongue all over - you can even put it inside me, if you’d like-” she reached down with one hand and pointed at the small, wet hole that was separated from her anus by a bit of brown skin, “but the real secret is this.” She moved her hand up, to the opposite end of the stretch of pink skin, and pulled the curls aside to expose a small, hard nub, barely visible peeking out of the bit of skin that embraced it. It reminded Ben a bit of the head of Tai’s cock, wrapped in its foreskin, but he wasn’t about to tell Rey that. The thought of Tai gave him a twinge in his chest, but it wasn’t enough to make him stop.

“It’s like you,” he said instead, reaching out one finger to touch it. 

“Just in front of it,” Rey instructed, before he reached it. “It’s too much right now if you touch it directly. It’ll feel better with your tongue.” He did as she asked, and pressed against the skin just in front of where the nub lay, hidden in its hood. Her reaction was worth the care, her hips bucked up into his hand and she swore.

“I like that,” He said, doing it again. Her reaction wasn’t quite as intense the second time, but he still found it quite satisfying, so he busied himself with exploring her with his hands, using the fingers of one to gently stroke over and around the hooded nub, and the other to pinch her petals. 

“What did you mean?” Rey asked after a few minutes. Her eyes were by now half-lidded, and her little hole - which Ben wasn’t sure would be able to fit even half of his cock - was dripping a sweet-smelling fluid that he used to lubricate the rest of her skin. “When you said my nub is like me. What did you mean?” Her voice was wonderfully breathy, and her hips twitched rhythmically with every stroke. Her palms had drifted to her breasts, and she massaged them along to the same rhythm, which both looked enticing and, he expected, felt very good for her as well. Ben thought he was getting a handle on how her pleasure worked.

“I mean it’s a pretty little thing in a hood,” he answered, slipping a finger inside her and wondering at the soft, warm embrace of her body.

“Oh,” she moaned, wiggling her backside and releasing her breasts so she could grip her knees again and pull her legs further apart. “Oh, please. Another. And harder on my nub.” As she requested he slipped another finger in with the first, and pumped them in and out a few times, in the same way he might when preparing Tai to be mounted, or what Tai would do to him. It felt very different, but no less pleasurable or intimate - the promise of pleasure, both now and yet to come. There was a part of the wall inside her that felt different from the rest of it, a little bit rough, and he pressed against it with the pads of his fingers as he finally rubbed harder against her nub.

That was what she needed. The muscles inside her cunt clenched around his fingers, and he imagined how wonderful that would feel around his cock. Her legs spasmed and she cried out; she bucked so wildly that he had to hold her down with his palm, using the heel of it to keep pressure against her outside. He gave her just a moment to calm down, then he scooted back and lowered himself again, and licked at the fluid that gushed out of her when she reached her climax. He hadn’t realized that women leaked liquid the way men did, but the discovery did not disappoint him; he wanted more, as much as he could get.

Her hands immediately reached for his hair, gripping it in hard fists, but she didn’t try to pull him away, nor did she push him. She simply held on, moaning and whining as he used his lips and tongue to familiarize himself with all the bits of her that he’d already learned with his fingers. He tongued at her hole, being careful to lick up every drop of her nectar, sucked on her petals, and after a thorough survey of her garden he worked his way back up to her hooded nub. Although it wasn’t quite so hooded now.

“Ah,” he murmured, pushing the two fingers of his right hand up the sides of it. Rey squirmed, and he pressed his palm down onto her mound, to hold her still. 

“Please,” she whined, wiggling again and forcing Ben to push down harder, which just made her whine louder. She gazed down her body at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Please what?” He asked, thoroughly enjoying the situation. For the first time in his life, Ben felt powerful. Here was this dangerous woman, an outlaw - a leader of outlaws - and he was pleasuring her with his mouth and his hands, turning her limbs into jelly, making her crave release so much she cried. Yes, that made Ben feel very powerful indeed.

“Please put your mouth back on me, I wa-” without further ado Ben wrapped his lips around her nub and sucked it. And then she did push down on his head, forcing his nose into her curls as she had another climax, more sweet nectar splashing out of her for Ben to lap up.

He licked her until she tugged him off, and then he climbed back up her body and kissed her mouth until she pushed him off.

"You now," Rey said, pushing Ben onto his back and crouching next to him. "I want to touch you."

Ben had no objections. He laced his fingers behind his head and watched her face as she stroked his cheeks and the hair on his chin, down his neck and shoulders to his chest.

"Your breasts are quite nice, for a man," she said, giving the right one a gentle squeeze.

“Oh yes? All the other men you’ve petted?”

She snorted and squeezed it harder. 

“I live in the forest and lead a group called the Merry Men, you can’t believe that I haven’t seen a naked man before. I’ve never wanted to pet any of them, though.” Ben hummed as her hand drifted lower, fingers playing along the soft skin of his stomach. “You’re very pale.”

“I wear clothes when I’m out in the sun. Usually.” He watched her face as she continued her hands’ journey lower. 

“In an amazing coincidence, so do I,” she said, grinning down at him as her fingers reached the trail of hair that would normally lead her down to his cock. But right now it was fully hard, and lay across his lower stomach very close to her hand. 

“Do your Merry Men know?”

She kept her eyes on his cock as her hand danced down to press against the sharp edge of his hip bone.

“None of the main group know. Amongst the leaders, Finn, Poe, and Snap don’t know. Kay and Jess do.” 

Ben thought it was strange that Rey would mention the names of her collaborators so openly, but he liked it. It implied a level of trust that he was certain he hadn’t earned, but which he immediately decided he would respect.

“What’s special about Kay and Jess?” 

Rey tilted her head and smirked, and the pieces fell into place. 

“ _Oh_.” 

She shrugged. “Women disguised as men. We’re all around you, hiding in plain sight.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Ben had known many men during his years in London, and now here, and he couldn’t name a single one that he believed might have been a woman.

Except Rey, of course. He’d believed Rey was a man until he’d been naked next to her.

Rey flicked her gaze from his cock to his face and gave him a mischievous grin. “Would you believe me if I told you there are rumors that the Sheriff is a woman?” 

“The Sheriff! Phasmo? But he’s so…” Ben struggled for a suitable term to describe the Sheriff of Nottingham, who was a tall, serious, formal sort of man. He was stiff, and quick to anger, and without any doubt he was a man.

“So tall? So strong?” Rey laughed and shook her head, returning her gaze to his cock. “You’ll be shocked to discover that women can be tall and strong, too.” 

Ben frowned. “But Sir Ren says-” 

She interrupted him with a snort. “Sir Ren.” She drew his name out as though it was a curse against God and man. “What does he know, except about encouraging the Sheriff to hurt the poor people who live under his authority.” 

Ben had heard whispers that Ren had been meeting with the Sheriff to discuss more violent methods for ridding Sherwood Forest of the outlaws, but he was surprised to hear that Rey knew about it. 

“He knows the difference between men and women,” he exclaimed, his cheeks heating. 

“Please. Does he think I’m a man? Would he believe I was a woman, if you told him?” 

The question left Ben speechless. He wasn’t really sure. Rey, clearly ready for the conversation to end, finally reached for his cock. It had remained hard during their conversation, somewhat to Ben’s surprise. 

Rey was not afraid. She started by grasping him around his shaft and giving him a few squeezes, as though she was testing the weight of a stone, or the quality of a cut of leather.

“It’s soft,” she murmured, letting go and bringing her fingers up to his foreskin, which had pulled back to expose the tip of his cock. “I mean, it’s stiff, but not hard like a rock. And the skin is so soft and delicate.” Ben felt heat flush his cheeks as she dabbed the tip of a finger into the precum that had gathered in the round divot there. “Is this your spend? Have you reached climax? When the horses breed there’s a lot more than this.”

Her expression was so concerned he had to hold back a laugh. “No, not at all, it will take you a little bit of work to get more than that out of it.” Not too much, though - he had to admit that tasting her had been very exciting, and he had almost spilled when she had her orgasm against his mouth. A few strokes might be all it would take. “That’s just a little bit, to help smooth the path.” He’d barely finished his words before she ducked down and licked the fluid up with the flat of her tongue. It was his turn to grunt and buck his hips.

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide. “I like that.” She quickly moved from next to him to straddling his thigh, then gripped him around his shaft again with her left hand and cradled his balls in her right hand. Without hesitation she leaned over and popped the head of his cock into her mouth, pushing his foreskin down with her lips as she went, and proceeded to suckle on it like a lamb on a teat.

It was fine, too intense really, but he gave her a moment because the visual really was spectacular. Her eyes closed, cheeks sucked in, hair wild and stuck out in all directions, making noises in her throat like a dog guarding its favorite bone. Her cunt was still wet, and she stroked it against his thigh, seeking her own pleasure while she attempted to give Ben his.

“Hey,” he said, when she finally squeezed his balls just a little too hard. “Use the foreskin to stroke up and down, and see if you can fit more of it in your mouth. And don’t squeeze so hard.”

Rey made a huffing sort of noise - maybe it was a laugh, interrupted by the cock in her mouth - and switched tactics right away to follow his instructions. Almost immediately Ben was on the edge of bliss, having to purposefully hold himself back so he could take the time to enjoy as much as he could of what Rey had to give him. Her hands, strong from wielding her staff and calloused from climbing trees, nevertheless felt marvelous stroking his cock up and down in a perfect rhythm with her mouth. Her tongue, dextrous and sure, licked his shaft and swirled about its head as she took his cock from the pocket of her cheeks to the back of her throat and back again. And still she squeezed his balls in harmony, but less ruthlessly this time. And she hummed around it, hummed and moaned in such a way that made her own pleasure obvious, even if the slick movements of her cunt against his leg hadn’t also given that away.

“You are very good at that,” Ben muttered after one particularly delicious stroke. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” She chuckled and shook her head as well as she could, but didn’t take her mouth from him.

Ben held out for as long as he could, but it didn’t take long before it was just too much.

“Rey,” he grunted, “Rey, I’m going to-”

“Oh yes,” she interrupted, her mouth off of him as quick as that, her hand taking over to stroke him more quickly up and over his head, her other hand continuing its gentle rhythmic pressure around his balls. “I want to see it, see your spend launch-”

With a cry from him and a joyful shout from her Rey got what she wanted, as Ben reached his climax and his spend shot into the air in three glorious spurts, landing wetly on his stomach, smaller drops spotting on Rey’s arms and chest. When Ben came back down she was still giggling, clapping her hands like a maid - although he would never tell her that - and riding his leg like a pony. That wouldn’t do - he grabbed her roughly by her hips and pulled her up onto his face. She protested at first, but as soon as she realized what she was doing she grabbed him by the hair and rode his face like a pony instead. He made her cry out twice more before she dismounted him and laid down next to him, boneless and spent. His cock was hard again by that point, but he didn’t mind.

Rey nuzzled her face into Ben’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the cooling puddle on his stomach.

“That was fun,” she said, giggling again. “Not like any other maid I’ve had, but enjoyable nonetheless.”

Ben squeezed her and poked her in her side, making her giggle again. He did enjoy hearing her laugh. 

“I’ve only been with one other person,” Ben admitted, “and you’re nothing like him, but I enjoyed it too.”

Rey was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, “For me, too. Just the one.”

Knowing that he was only Rey’s second - and her first man - made Ben feel warm inside, special. She was amazing, and she'd picked _him_. And he’d picked her, without even realizing it. He was glad for it, though.

“I haven’t seen her in a while,” Rey continued after a moment of silence, her hand resting on his chest. “I miss her.”

“I miss Tai, too,” Ben admitted, pulling Rey closer. “We write letters, but it’s not the same.”

“Tai was your companion in London, wasn’t he.”

“Your spies told you that?” She wiggled uncomfortably, but he held her tight. “I don’t mind. Yes - my best friend from childhood. We grew up together in the Tower. He was sent from France as a ward when we were both very small; I can’t remember a time when we weren’t together.”

Rey nodded against his shoulder, circled her fingertips in abstract patterns over his skin, giving him goosebumps despite the heat. “Exactly. I was born in the castle kitchen - my mother was a scullery maid - and her father worked under the Chamberlain. She was a year or two older than me, but I started following her around the castle as soon as I could walk. We were inseparable from then, and at some point we went from being friends to being something else.”

Ben rolled onto his side so he could look into her face. “You were born in the castle? Here, in Nottingham?” That news surprised him for some reason, and his disbelief clearly amused her.

“Yes! But I haven’t lived there for a few years.” She continued, more softly. “She’s still there. I see her sometimes. From afar.”

“Does she know who you are?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean… no. At least, I don’t think so. I grew up being called by another name, and changed my name when I left and started living as a boy.”

"What was the name?" Ben asked, and immediately regretted it, surely that question was too personal, but she answered readily.

"Kira. My given name was Kira."

“That's a very pretty name. Why call yourself Rey?” Ben’s eyes had closed, the heat of the sun and Rey’s body lulling him into a stupor. His cock had softened, too, but then Rey set her hand on it again and he thought, despite his tiredness, that it might wake up again.

Rey chuckled. “Thank you. It was a good name, for the time. I changed it so I could pass as a man, and I chose Rey so I can be called after my father.” She draped her leg over his hip and tugged his cock, urging it to stiffen. “He was called _Roland Reynaud_. He was a great man, a hero, so I named myself in his honor.”

Ben’s cock was hard, and he was waking up, too, and was not particularly interested in speaking more about Rey’s father. It appeared that she, too, was finished with that line of conversation, because the next words out of her mouth were, “I would like to mount you now, if you’ll have me.”

“What?” Ben started, suddenly awake. “How?”

She paused her stroking, a small frown marring her beautiful face. “Your cock is so very nice, and I’d like to know how it feels inside me. We don’t have to, but I thought-”

“Oh, no, we can,” Ben said, finally understanding what she meant. “I quite like what we’ve done so far, and that… yes, that would be nice.” The thought of her hot slickness embracing his cock was so much more than nice, but Ben’s mind was quite muddled and he couldn't find the words to accurately express how he was feeling. 

She grinned, that mischievous smile. “Impaled by a maid. Not what I thought I would be doing this morning.” She gave him another tug. “I like this.”

 _I like you_ , he wanted to say. Instead he said, with pretend innocence, “What is ‘this’, that you like?”

She squeezed his cock and it jumped in her hand, making her giggle. She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top, not caring about the sticky puddle of cooled spend still drying into a crust on his stomach. She rubbed her slick cunt against his shaft like a cat having a stretch. 

“ _This_ ,” she declared, then cried out as he flipped them over, pressing her against the hot stone, his hands pinning her arms over her head again, just as he had done in the pool. “Hey! I was going to mount you!” But she was smiling, and Ben enjoyed his small act of defiance, the bit of power that he held over her. 

“This,” he growled, and slipped the head of his cock into her opening. “You like this.”

“I do,” she whined and hugged his hips with her knees as he pressed it in further. “I like it. I want to be impaled by my pretty maid.”

“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered, “and I will stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I will,” she whined, bucking her hips up to take more of him herself. “But this is so good, please don’t stop. Keep going.”

He growled again, back in character. “Your pretty maid wants to impale you. The strongest, bravest outlaw in the forest, being impaled by a maid.”

“You must admit, he’s quite a maid.” She gasped as he finished, filling her to the hilt.

Ben had to stop to breathe. She was so tight, slick and warm, and also somehow sweet, as though his cock were a tongue and he could taste the inside of her. He could have spilled easily, but again he held back because he wanted to make sure that Rey could get what she wanted from him. She was back to her animal state, wiggling and whining, bucking her hips up against him. It took him a moment to understand that she was trying to get some pressure against her hooded nub, so he let go one of her wrists, reached between them, and pressed his thumb against it. 

Everything happened quite quickly after that. Rey grabbed his hair with her free hand and pulled him down for a kiss. Ben rubbed his thumb in circles and managed exactly three strokes inside her before he had to withdraw, his spend spurting out, hot and thick, all over both of them. Rey cried into his mouth and reached her own climax, after which she laughed and pressed her lips against his lips and then down to the hair on his chin, as though she couldn’t get enough of him. He would hold out next time - if there was a next time. He hoped there would be a next time. He was almost desperate to feel her muscles clench around his cock the way they had around his fingers. He hadn’t wanted anything like he wanted this in a very long time. Next time.

He let her go, and collapsed again, completely spent.

They didn’t speak; Ben wasn’t sure what there was to say. So instead he pulled her close, and drifted to sleep while her hands played with his hair, and her lips danced across his face.

When Ben awoke an hour later, Rey was gone. The only signs she’d been there at all were her scent on his cape, the dried spend on Ben’s stomach, and his old leather purse - empty, of course - set on the edge of the rock, along with a small bouquet of lavender, fragrant and sweet, tied together with a blade of grass. He could almost imagine her voice saying something like _a pretty flower for a pretty maid_ , and he blushed to think of it. Ben took a quick dip in the pool to wash off the evidence of their lovemaking, slowly dressed himself, gathered Taciturnus from where he’d wandered into the edge of the forest, and rode back to the castle alone, the lavender tucked in his shirt, next to his heart. He wondered when he would see Rey again. He hoped it would be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I made a donation to Black Lives Matter, so MizTooka on Twitter drew me this _fantastic_ art of Ben's discovery in this chapter! You can donate to Black Lives Matter [here](https://secure.actblue.com/donate/ms_blm_homepage_2019).
> 
> Jumping from just under 1000 words to getting close to 9000 words! I hope it's good for you all because I had so much fun writing this. Next chapter should be up in a few days (although I also have to write a chapter for my other wip, and finish my finnreylo canonverse ABO at some point, so who really knows).
> 
> Oh, in case you don't know, a _coif_ (the thing that Ben compares Rey's wet hair to) is a tight cap like you see in movies and stuff. Like this:  
> 
> 
> In contrast, this is what I imagine Ben's hat looks like (okay, this is a Tudor style hat, like 200 years after the time when Robin Hood was supposed to exist, but I did say this is legendary, right? So really I can make them do whatever I want hahaha)


	3. Chapter 3

Ben’s footsteps sounded harshly on the flagstones of the castle hallway. He walked quickly, practically running, heading away from humiliation, towards the relative comfort of his private room.

He’d been stupid, that’s what it was. He had allowed himself to get distracted by his own emotions, and by other things he really didn’t want to think about, and Hux had managed not only to win their bout but to cut him, deeply enough to draw blood. The competition was a major event, drawing people from Nottinghamshire and counties beyond; there had been so many people there and Ben had been so proud of being included. His bout with Hux was to be the capstone of the event; the festival that was to follow would go late into the evening with music and drinking and games. But Hux had cut him when he was down, and Sir Ren had _laughed_ and the spectators had laughed, too, and of course instead of standing tall and letting it roll off of him Ben had lost his temper and ran away. He hoped that they hadn’t seen his tears, he didn’t think he’d started crying until he was well away from the field and almost into the castle, although he suspected that even if they hadn’t they’d tell him that they did. 

He hated them both, so much, but there was nothing he could do. He was stuck with them. Stuck in this ugly, uncomfortable castle in this backwards town filled with horrible people. He missed London so much, he even missed his mother and his father, and he missed Tai most of all even though it appeared that Tai no longer missed him. The only people he didn’t hate here were Rey, and the small woman who was currently chasing him through the dim castle corridors.

“Lord Ben!” She cried, “my Lord, please walk more slowly, you’ll wear yourself out before you reach your room!”

“Lady Rose, I won’t!” He shouted back. “I feel fine! Please leave me be!”

Ben thought he was fine, he wasn’t even feeling light-headed; he was sure she was just upset that his blood was dripping onto the floor, making a mess that somebody would have to clean up - not either of them, certainly, so he wasn’t sure why she cared. He continued on, ignoring her, concentrating on his loathing of Hux and his humiliation at the man’s hand, and how desperately hurt he was that Ren had supported Hux over himself. 

And the archer. He was thinking about the archer, too - the stout one with the ginger whiskers and the laugh which was almost too loud, with the northern brogue that made him slightly difficult to understand but no less attractive for it. Ben had noticed him and his friends - a taller, thin, dark-haired man with an eye patch and a smaller one with blonde hair cut straight over his ears - at the very start of the competition, partly because of their accents and partly because the first time Ben had seen the archer, out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn that something about the man reminded him of Rey. But then he’d made a joke and laughed with one of his friends, and the similarity to Rey disappeared. Ben could also swear that he caught the archer looking at him once or twice, with no small amount of interest etched upon his brow, and Ben had watched him, too. He’d had a good excuse: the man had dominated the archery competition all the way up until the very end. He hadn’t ended up winning - Sir Ren won, of course - but he was very good indeed. The archer had certainly watched Ben and Hux during their bout, though; he’d seen it all, his friends too, and he had probably also laughed when Hux knocked Ben’s sword out of his hand, pushed him to the ground, and swiped the tip of his blade across Ben’s left bicep, a move that was both painful and deeply humiliating. Especially because everybody seemed to think it was funny. Now Ben was going to hide in his room and they would all be attending the festival, drinking and laughing at his expense. 

At least Rey hadn’t been there, as far as Ben could see. That would have meant _total_ humiliation, and Ben wasn’t sure he could handle that. He hadn’t seen her since their dalliance by the pool, more than two months before, and he understood - listening to Ren discuss local happenings with the Sheriff’s men who would come to visit him in the barns - that Rey-with-the-hood had apparently disappeared, leaving her second-in-command in charge of the Merry Men. That was Poe, who she’d mentioned to him herself as she laid naked and warm on the stone by the water. Ben could still taste her tang on his tongue; he remembered exactly how her body had felt under him, her skin so soft and giving under the tips of his fingers and her fists in his hair, her hot breath in his ear. He’d hoped to see her, somehow, but apparently it was not to be. With Ren’s help the Sheriff had pushed the Merry Men further back into the forest, and with the apparent loss of their leader they hoped that the band of outlaws might be routed entirely. Ben spent his nights lying in bed and praying to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in to watch over Rey, wherever she might be. 

Finally reaching his room, Ben threw the heavy wooden door open with his right arm, his left one still clutched against his chest. Now that the excitement was draining from his body the pain had begun to grow, somehow both sharp and dull, encompassing his entire arm. And with pain came anger; he kicked the door for good measure, and stormed in, then kicked the bedpost, which didn’t move, and the chair, which did - it skidded across the floor and crashed into the wall, not coming to rest until it tipped over and landed on its side, the embroidered cushion flying off and settling on its edge against the small table upon which Ben wrote his letters to London.

“Well, I hope you feel much better now,” the woman - Lady Rose - said, catching the door with her foot and closing it behind her before crossing the room and dropping her tray on the trestle table that separated the sleeping area of the long room from the sitting area; Ben’s writing table, and a few chairs set before the fireplace. Someone had been in already to light the blaze; as summer was winding down the nights were becoming chilly, and a fire was necessary to keep comfortable in bed overnight.

“I do not,” Ben replied, seething, as he paced up and down the long side of the room, corner to corner, passing the three windows that faced out over the river and towards the forest beyond. The windows were open, and since they faced out from the castle the breeze was warm and sweet. The sun was setting on the other side of the Castle Rock, leaving the world outside his room already in twilight shadow. “My arm hurts.”

“Well, maybe you should pick that chair back up and have a seat, and I’ll see what I can do about your arm.”

Ben paused his pacing and looked back at the woman. She was very short and very determined, and glared at him from under her wimple through dark brown eyes over a mouth set with stubbornness. Rose worked under the Steward, but she had also trained in healing. She’d been mixing herbs in a corner of the kitchen when he’d passed through, dripping blood on the floor, too embarrassed to go into the castle through the main entrance. Deducing immediately what had happened, she had loaded up a tray with hot water and bandages and some healing herbs, and had barreled down the hall after him, refusing to let him outrun her despite his legs being so much longer than hers.

With a sigh Ben flipped the chair upright with his foot and sat down in it heavily next to the trestle table.

“Better? Does that satisfy you?”

Rose rolled her eyes fondly and picked up the cushion where it leaned against the leg of the letter-writing table. “Perhaps more comfortable with this, my Lord?”

Ben grabbed it from her with his good hand and, maintaining careful eye contact, lifted his behind up just enough to shove it under. She sighed and crossed her arms, and then he sighed, and once she busied herself with the contents of her tray he relaxed and grudgingly admitted to himself that he was glad to have her there. 

“Thank you, Lady Rose,” he finally muttered into the silent room, as he watched her separate out the various items on her tray and begin to mix them together. “For following me.”

“You should have stayed in the kitchen, it would have been much less trouble.” She shook her head and sighed. “You don’t always have to be so…”

“Intense? Emotional?”

“Difficult,” she finished her thought, but Ben didn’t think she sounded angry. Just tired. “Come on, let’s do this now.”

It was a bit of an ordeal. She had to help him remove his vest, which was bad enough, but by the time they got his shirt over his head they almost came to blows.

“It hurts!” Ben shouted for the third for fourth time, when Rose pulled out a cloth that had been soaking in the bowl of hot water on the tray.

“Of course it hurts!” she shouted back. “The dried blood is sticking the fabric to your wound, and you won’t stop moving! If you’d just sit still for a single moment I will get this off of you and then _maybe_ you can _stop hurting!_ ”

Ben didn’t want to stop moving. He wanted to leave the room and go out into the woods and find Rey-with-the-hood and beg her to… he didn’t know what. He was so sad and so lonely, and he was going to start crying again soon if he didn’t pull himself together.

“Lord Ben,” Rose said quietly, after a moment of silence. “Please? Let me help you.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, and let her do whatever it was she was doing - pulling his shirt the rest of the way down his arm, with some help from the damp rag, wiping him down, tutting while she poked and prodded at his sore, broken skin.

“You’re very lucky,” she murmured some time later, after she’d pulled the edges of skin together, covered the cut with something sticky and sweet-smelling, and wrapped his upper arm tightly in thin cloth bandages. “If that had been any deeper I’d have to sew you up, and that would be no fun for either of us, would it?”

He opened his eyes again and she spared a smile for him; a tired one, but honest, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “No, my Lady, that would not be fun at all.”

She laughed, shook her head, and gathered her materials back on her tray. 

“I will leave you here. Shall I have someone bring dinner to you?”

“No thank you, I’ll come down to the kitchen for something later.” Although he hadn’t eaten for some hours the thought of food made Ben feel ill. He wanted to lie down, maybe sleep for a little bit. To pretend as though the day hadn’t happened. 

“Very good. I will be back in a little while with a drink for you, a little tonic to help you relax.”

“Yes, fine. And thank you again, Lady Rose.” She turned back at the door and curtsied, leaving the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

Ben closed his eyes again and contemplated his next move. His arm still hurt, although the pain was more dull, almost numb. He could take off his breeches and get in bed. He could read a bit. He’d have to light the candles first, though. And he’d already read the only book in the room. He wouldn’t mind reading it again. Or he could write a letter to Tai. He’d just received a letter from Tai the day before - a rote letter, lacking any endearments. He mentioned a new friend, someone named Mattheus, son of some French lord or other, Ben didn’t remember, and he’d finished the letter with a conclusion that was so brief as to be offensive. He’d tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t deny that his sorrow over that letter was likely underlying everything else - the archer, and Hux, and Ren, and _Rey_.

Ben’s reverie was interrupted by a clatter from the window; he opened his eyes just in time to see a person stand up in the dark opening before hopping down into the room. It was the archer, the handsome, stout man with the ginger whiskers who spoke with a northern brogue, and although a part of Ben was very flattered indeed a much larger part was horrified.

“Excuse me!” He cried, and hopped to his feet without consideration of his injured arm. As he stood it moved out to the side, and that caused enough pain to send him right back down into the chair again. 

“Ben!” The archer stepped quickly, reaching Ben’s side in a moment, cradling Ben’s left elbow in gentle hands. “You’re hurt. I knew he hurt you. Ohhhh, I want to _kill_ that man!” 

Ben knew that voice; it was with him every night when he closed his eyes to sleep. “Rey!”

“Oh!” She finally looked him in the face, and from this close - and with her not purposefully pretending to be another person - it was very clear that this was Rey. “Yes. Um, hello.” 

“Rey!” He said again. “Did you climb up here? All the way from the river?”

“Yes.” She gazed at him over her whiskers, confused.

“Up the cliff of the Castle Rock? Up the castle wall?”

She huffed. “I do know how to climb, Ben.”

Ben shrugged, impressed, and pulled her into his lap with his right arm. She turned sideways, leaning into his naked chest and giggling as he rubbed his face against her cheek. 

“I love these whiskers, they look so real.”

“They’re fox fur. You like them?” Her voice was so soft and sweet, and Ben held her closer.

“I love them, and they do a most wonderful job of hiding your identity. Nobody would have known that was you out there.”

“I thought you knew,” she murmured as he nuzzled his nose into her chin. “You kept staring at me; I was certain you recognized me.”

“No, I didn’t.” His lips found the point where her whiskers ended, and between kisses to her soft skin he said, “I just thought… you were a… very handsome… archer from the north.”

“Hm, you would pass me over for a handsome archer from the north? Should I be jealous of myself?” She poked him good-naturedly.

“Never.” He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. “He was nice to look at from afar.”

“I suppose that’s fine, then. I saw you, too, and just thought you were still the prettiest maid I’d ever seen.”

Ben hummed and heat blossomed in his cheeks; he still wasn’t sure how to respond to her praise, so he just kept kissing her. 

“I enjoyed watching you fight, too, up until the end. You’re very good with a blade, has anyone told you that? You should know that. But oh,” her tone shifted from laudatory to angry, “I can’t _believe_ Hux cut you like that. It was in clear violation of the rules of the competition, and nobody did _anything_. I was angry. I’m still angry.” Her muscles tensed up, and he nuzzled his nose behind her ear and squeezed his hand around her side in the hopes it might calm her, but she seemed intent to be furious on his behalf. He didn’t like seeing her upset but it was also immensely gratifying that she was. “I’m so angry I could spit.”

“I miss you,” he murmured. He hadn’t intended to say it, but she was warm and soft and she smelled good, like sweat and the outdoors, and she was angry and in his lap and even though the padding around her middle hid her body he could imagine it, solid and sure. And she’d come to him - she’d seen what happened at the competition and she’d come to check on him and he couldn’t believe that she would do that, that _anybody_ would, but Rey especially. And the words were the truth - he did miss her, he’d missed her since the moment he woke up alone on the rock next to the pool, and he wanted her to know it. Of course he immediately regretted it, and was trying desperately to think of some way to take it back when Rey’s mouth found his, and her fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck.

“I miss you too,” she whispered into his cheek when she finally pulled away. “I’ve thought about you every day.”

“I went back to the pool,” Ben said, pulling her closer and feeling close to tears again. “To the pool and the edge of the forest, I looked for you, I’ve looked everywhere, but the gossip around the castle insisted you were gone. That you’d just left and they didn’t know where. That maybe you were gone for good.”

She chuckled, and pulled back so she could look into his face, which she cradled in her hands.

“I didn’t go far, but I’m glad they thought I did. As far as they know I’m still gone-”

“I won’t tell.” 

Her thumbs were gentle on his cheeks. “I never thought you would, but thank you. Anyway,” she signed and leaned back into his shoulder, “I can’t stay, but I had to see you after that sham of a competition.”

“Yes, Ren definitely cheated to win against you. You were clearly the better archer.”

“I was talking about you and Hux, but you’re right; he definitely cheated. It wouldn't do to have the Sheriff’s favorite lose, would it.”

“I think Hux is the Sheriff’s favorite, too,” Ben said bitterly. “Or at least he’s certainly Sir Ren’s favorite.”

Rey scoffed and laid a hand gently over the bandages. “You wouldn’t want to be that man’s favorite. He would ruin you. You’ve been wrapped up quite nicely, though. Who tended to you?”

“Lady Rose, who works under the Steward? She also practices healing. There is a proper doctor, too, who does star readings and stares at flasks of urine, but Rose is the one who knows what she’s doing.”

“Lady Rose, yes,” Rey said with a smile. “I knew her.”

A breeze pushed in through the open windows, and Ben shivered with the chill.

“Oh, dear,” Rey turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, being careful to avoid the bandages. “You do look quite nice without a shirt, but it is a bit cold for that. Can I get you something to put on?”

“Oh, yes.” Ben knew exactly what he wanted to wear. “In the wardrobe, hanging on the door. Bring it to me?”

She kissed his cheek and climbed off his lap, and he listened as she padded behind him to the wardrobe, in the corner of the room, next to his bed. The door opened with a familiar squeak, and she gasped.

“Oh, Ben, this is _beautiful_.” He caught the soft swish of moving fabric. “And it’s so soft. This is the finest silk I’ve ever seen.”

The wonder in her voice caused a tightness in Ben’s heart. He nodded, even though he didn’t think she was looking at him.

“Yes, very fine. Imported from Byzantium.”

“And is this _gold?_ ”

“Yes, gold thread. Just a little embroidery.” 

Another quiet rustle, followed by a deep breath. “Oh, Ben, this smells like you. Have you been wearing this?”

Rey knew Ben’s scent well enough to recognize it on his clothing, and he thought he might die. Soft footsteps behind him, and then she was standing in front of him, his new blue silk shirt draped over her arms. His ears burned.

“I’ve been wearing it here, in my room. To get used to it.”

He watched her as she lifted the sleeve of the thing up to rub it against her cheek, then giggled when she realized that her whiskers were in the way.

“It isn’t your normal kind of costume, is it,” she said thoughtfully, rubbing the fabric between her fingers instead. “I’ve only ever seen you wear black before, that heavy fabric with the high collars, makes you look like a Benedictine.” She held the shirt out in front of her, the leather laces of the collar and sleeves almost touching the floor. “Might even get a glimpse of your collarbone in this one. What brought this about?” She raised an eyebrow and waited for Ben to answer. When he looked at the floor instead, she stepped up to him and pulled the shirt over his head. Together they maneuvered his left arm into the sleeve with minimal pain, and then Ben was able to pull it on the rest of the way. He stood, and Rey laced up the sleeves and the collar, and then she stepped back and took a good, long look at him. She appeared satisfied with what she saw, and Ben thought that if she could look at him like that every day, he could live a happy life.

“You are very pretty, you know,” she finally said, pushing him back into the chair and straddling his lap, palms stretched across his chest. “Even in your black Benedictine garb you’re the prettiest maid. But I like this, too.” 

“You make me want to be pretty,” he admitted, taking her by her hips and pulling her closer. It made his left arm sore to move it, but it was worth the pain to hear her gasp when she felt his hardness pressed up between her legs. “You make me want to braid flowers in my hair and wear colorful clothes.”

“Clothes that feel nice,” she added, running the fine silk under her fingers again. “Not like that scratchy monk’s cloth.”

“You could take this off,” he murmured, tugging at the bottom hem of her tunic, “see how this silk feels against your skin.”

“Oh, no,” she slid back off Ben’s lap and he suppressed a whine. “I’ve been here long enough already, I need to get back to the festival before the others decide there’s something wrong. I just came to make sure you weren’t too badly hurt.” She smiled shyly as she backed away. “And to let you know that I miss you. And that I’m here, even when you don’t see me.”

Ben jumped up with an urgency that surprised himself and caged her in where she was standing by the window. His arm screamed but he could barely feel it over the sound of his own rushing heartbeat. He wanted to ask her to stay, to beg her, but the look in her eyes warned him against that. Instead he asked, “When will I see you again?”

“Soon,” she whispered, her hands on his face again. “Very soon. I’ll come to you here, I’ll come late. They don’t often check this side of the castle, because of the cliff. I’ll sneak in.”

“I can tell you what I hear-”

“No! That’s not why I want you, Ben. Please don’t think that.” She kissed him softly. “I want _you_. Just you. Please understand that.”

“I do,” he replied, and stood back - but before she could climb up to the windowsill there was a quick knock on the door, which opened immediately, and Rose walked in carrying a steaming cup and a plate on a tray.

“Lord Ben, it’s quite chilly now and it occurred to me that I left you without a shirt and perhaps you would need some help - oh!” Three steps in the door and she finally looked up to see Ben and Rey standing by the window, very close together, with Ben in his beautiful blue silk shirt. But before Ben could say anything, Rey took a step forward and grinned, and she was the northern archer again.

“Aye, you must be the Lady Rose! I’d just come in to check on our Lord, to see if he was a’right. He says you stitched him up good as new, and I was just about to take my leave meself.”

Rose blinked twice and nodded slowly. “That I did sir, although thankfully there was no stitching involved.”

Rey bowed and rushed towards the door. “And now I really must take my leave. Good evening, milord and milady!” And with that she was out the door, pulling it closed behind her.

Rose continued to stand in her place, so Ben took the cup from the tray and carried it around to the small table that stood next to the head of his bed. She followed a moment later, and leaned against the wardrobe while Ben sat on the edge of the bed. Her expression was thoughtful as she gazed over his shoulder. Ben, uncertain of what to say, picked up the bundle of lavender that lay on the table and twirled it between his fingers. The bouquet that Rey had left him by the pool had long since dried to pieces, but every few days he went out and cut more, so he always went to sleep accompanied by the scent of lavender. 

“Lavender,” Rose said, and he held it out for her. She pressed it against her nose, and smiled. “I used to have a friend who loved lavender. She would hang sachets of it around her neck, and they would get caught on bushes and branches when we played outside, and on the pot handles when we were in the kitchen.” She handed it back and sighed. “She used to tease me, tell me that lavender smells better than Rose.”

“Cheeky.”

“Yes, cheeky. Kira was quite a cheeky girl.” Ben dropped the lavender in shock at the sound of Rey’s old name, and he hoped that it didn’t show on his face, although he expected that it did. He reached for the flower but Rose was more quick, scooping it up and holding it up for him to take it, her face only inches from his own. Avoiding her gaze he took the lavender and held it loosely in his fist. “She was my best friend, my companion. A bit like your Lord Tai, I expect.” 

Ben had told Rose about Tai in the earliest days of his residence in the castle, back when he received letters full of news of London and heartfelt declarations of devotion, when he thought that perhaps Tai would come to visit over the winter months. He shook his head and her face fell.

“Oh dear. Lord Ben, I’m so sorry.” She sat down next to him on the bed.

He shrugged. “Time passes and people change, I suppose. Tell me about your Kira. Please. If you wish.”

“Not much to tell, really. We grew up together - she was in the kitchen, her mother was a scullery maid, but she died when Kira was small and she was raised by the cooks. I loved her, and we spent as much time together as we could, working in the kitchen and playing down by the river. Her favorite game was to dress up like a pirate, we’d pretend to get carried away to some place far away from here.” She stopped talking, and when Ben looked over she had a small, sad smile on her face.

“What happened to her?” He asked, as though he didn’t already know, but curious to see what she would say.

“She left a few years ago. She’d befriended one of the laborers who was brought in to build the outer wall, and he had… ideas.” She paused, and tension filled the silence.

“Ideas?”

She clutched her hands in front of her and whispered. “Treasonous ideas. I shouldn’t speak of them.”

“You could,” he whispered back, and she turned her head quickly to face him, her eyes narrowed. “Words cannot hurt us. Ideas, likewise, cannot hurt us, unless they are put into action. There is nothing wrong with you telling me about these treasonous ideas. Explaining treasonous ideas is not the same as committing treason.”

She stared at him for several long moments, and he wilted slightly under her regard, but eventually she nodded. “Very well. This man - he called himself _Huit Sept_ because he said laborers are only numbers in the minds of the king - argued that taxes only hurt the poor and serve to enrich those who are already wealthy. He would say that noblemen and rich merchants should instead give their money to the poorest, to keep them fed and housed, and if they don’t choose to do this,” she lowered her voice even further, so Ben had to lean in to hear it, “it should be _taken by force_ , by the people themselves.”

Ben, completely unsurprised and remarkably unbothered, did his best to look shocked. “My goodness. And your friend Kira - she agreed with this?”

Rose squirmed uncomfortably. “She did. She tried to convince me too, but… many things I suppose. The king has been good to me. I live in the castle, my needs are met. And I didn’t want to leave my sister.”

“Sister?” Ben had no idea that Rose had a sister. 

“Paige.” She chuckled dryly. “I stayed so I could be with my sister, and then she was married off to some nobleman down in Wiltshire. I haven’t seen her since and he doesn’t allow her to write.” Her expression grew serious. “I don’t laugh because it amuses me, I laugh because… well, what else can I do?” 

Ben, who had lived his entire life under the protection and supervision of the crown, and who had never been allowed to make a choice for himself, nodded. “I do understand.”

“Kira. One morning I came down to the kitchen and she was gone, had run off with Huit Sept and a few other of the laborers. I heard later they went north, over the border, all the way to Aberdeen, but I’m not sure if I believe it. Here.” She stood and picked up the cup, which was no longer steaming. “Drink this before it gets too cool, it will help you sleep. I brought you some cheese and bread as well, so you don’t have to go down to the kitchen.” He took a sip, and she eyed his shirt. “Are you planning to sleep in that?”

“I think I will,” he answered, and took another sip. “It’s very comfortable.”

“Very well, my Lord, then I shall take my leave.”

Rose picked up her tray, leaving the plate of food on the trestle table, and walked herself to the door, where she paused with her hand on the latch.

“Lady Rose? Are you well?”

“I was just thinking about Kira. She always did love to play dress up.” With one last quick curtsy she was out the door and away, and Ben was left to wonder what she meant, if she meant what he thought, if she meant anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think you see references to both Disney's cartoon Robin Hood and to Monty Python and the Holy Grail in this chapter, you are not wrong! It also includes references to [Statera Trium](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366297/chapters/35656308), a great unfinished finnreylo medieval AU that I am the coauthor on and which perhaps will be finished someday, someday.
> 
> **Nerd notes:**
> 
> I know nothing about medieval fighting competitions so I just based this on the Robin Hood cartoon, hope that's okay with everyone.
> 
> Nottingham Castle really was built on a great big rock called Castle Rock. Here's a Victorian reconstruction of how it might have looked. The castle itself was destroyed in the 17th century, there is a newer palace there now.  
>   
>  _Huit Sept_ is French for _eight seven_ \- it's Finn, y'all.
> 
> Benedictines are an order of Catholic monks, they wear black robes and follow the Rule of Saint Benedict, whom I suppose our Ben was named after. Benedictines were actually founded in England, by Saint Augustine of Canterbury, in 597! Neato. 
> 
> **Attention attention! There is art!**
> 
> [@SAeronauts](https://twitter.com/SAeronauts/status/1241915255531261953) on Twitter read the first chapters and it inspired her to draw an archer Rey - which is perfect for chapter three! (Lacking in ginger whiskers, but she didn't know)  
> 
> 
> ALSO! She drew [Pretty Maid Ben](https://twitter.com/SAeronauts/status/1242652458024718336), whom I _adore_ , which totally inspired me for this chapter! This is the shirt that Ben wears at the end.  
>   
> Please [go give her some love](https://twitter.com/SAeronauts)!!
> 
> ALSO! I asked Persimonne if she could draw Rose in a wimple and she said _yes_ \- so here she is! She's perfect! Thank you!  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that nothing in this story is historically accurate at all, at all. I'm making people do what I need them to do for the sake of the story! No research we make shit up like men!

Ben Solo was a distraction. He’d been a distraction from the moment he set foot in Nottinghamshire, with his fine clothes and his soft hair, his plush lips and muscular thighs. Rey had known that he was going to be trouble when she took his purse in the carriage, and when he found her later, at the pool by the forest, she should have discouraged him instead of… whatever she’d ended up doing. 

After that day in the woods, she'd known it would be unwise—in more ways than one—to try to seek him out again, but after Hux had cut him during the competition, she just couldn't help herself. He’d been hurt, and not just physically. It was plain to everyone there that both Hux and Sir Ren had broken Ben’s trust, and Rey knew what that felt like. She couldn’t leave him alone, so she’d sneaked into his room and oh… that had been a mistake. A lovely, glorious, unbelievably stupid mistake.

Once Rey realized that it was possible for her to climb up to Ben’s window undetected by the castle guards, she’d made that trip part of her regular routine. She returned to him three nights after her first visit, much later in the evening—after the last change of the guard, but well before the bell tolled for Matins. She’d awakened in her bed in the forest, still tired but having slept for a few hours at least, and crept across the fields to where she’d left a small boat hidden between two large rocks on the edge of the river, about a quarter mile upstream from the castle. A quick jaunt across and down the river, several minutes remembering the hand and footholds up the cliff and the outer wall of the castle and into the window of Ben’s bedroom—which he had left blessedly cracked, despite the chill of the autumn evening. Perhaps he’d known she was coming, or hoped that she would.

He was certainly welcoming that first night; Rey only arrived back at her tent as the bell tolled for Lauds and the first dim fingers of dawn broke through the thick trees that surrounded the encampment. It was really too late, but she hadn’t wanted to leave and Ben hadn’t encouraged her to. Breakfast was already being served, and she made up some excuse about having gone out early to check the camp perimeter—something she’d done the day before, so she wasn’t _entirely_ lying—but the way Finn had cocked a grin at her as he handed over her bowl of broth and bread and mug of ale implied that he could see through her deceit. He couldn’t possibly know where she’d gone, though, even if he could tell what she’d been doing. Hopefully he would assume she’d spent the night with one of the servants up at the castle, or perhaps the so-called witch who lived further back in the forest (Rey knew for a fact that the others took turns with her, but she herself had never been tempted). 

Rey had returned to Ben every few nights ever since. Some nights he’d be asleep, exhausted from training, battered and bruised. On these nights she would slip in next to him, curl around his back and nuzzle his neck, being careful not to fall too far into slumber before it was time to leave again. But other nights he’d be awake and waiting for her, naked and sweet, warming the bed. 

Rey was surprised at the amount of time they spent together these evenings just talking. Rey avoided telling Ben about her life, either her past or what she did now; she would much rather listen to him. She loved hearing his descriptions of life in London, the books he’d read and places in the city he enjoyed the most—the gardens and the palace and the great church at Westminster. The church in particular he described in hushed tones and she gathered that it was much greater than even St Mary’s in Nottingham, which she thought was a very fine church indeed. It was the burial place of kings, although that wasn’t what made it interesting for her—she didn’t care for the nobility, after all, not even the king—but listening to Ben describe the building was a little bit like magic. He loved its two towers that thrust high into the sky, as though reaching for heaven itself. He loved its colorful windows, the nooks and crannies in the nave where he and Tai would play and hide when they could get away with it, and he missed it, too. Talking about it made him happy, and Rey wanted him to be happy, so she would listen to him for as long as he wanted to tell her about it. 

When they weren’t talking or napping, they coupled. Rey took Ben wherever they could figure out how to make it work: on the bed, in the chair, on the rug in front of the fireplace; on one memorable occasion they did it in the window itself. Rey could lose herself in him so easily; the softness of his hair and the sweet sound of his voice were soothing even when he worked her body hard, pushed her to the very edges of her pleasure and then gentled her over into bliss. More than once he’d had to place a hand over her mouth to keep her from making too much noise. “We can’t have someone walking by in the hallway hear us now, can we,” he’d growl in her ear; but despite his words she knew that it pleased him, made him proud, to know how much she wanted him. And she really did—she wanted him, even though she knew she could never have him. Not really. 

She had more important things to worry about. She had to save the people of Nottinghamshire from the animals who ruled over them, after all.

But at night, sometimes she would wake up and sneak away. She would only be gone for a few hours, and it wasn’t as though she was doing anything. On this particular evening she awoke just as the watch around the camp was changing, which meant that it was close to midnight. Perhaps a bit earlier than she would normally make for the castle, but the movement of the guard made it a bit easier for her to sneak away. She paused just past the watch line to pull on her boots and check her weapons—a sword across her back, and a dagger in her boot. She rarely used them, but knowing they were there made her feel safe. 

Her journey to the castle was accompanied by the hoot of an owl and a small creature shuffling in the underbrush, but was otherwise uneventful, although it was quite cold. She was glad for the woolen cape—complete with hood, of course—that protected her from the worst of the chill. Her fingers were less lucky; although she had sturdy gloves she couldn’t wear them to climb the cliff, or the castle wall, and by the time she reached the window to Ben’s chamber her fingertips were numb and she was scrambling to keep hold. As she finally pulled herself up onto the sill of the window she considered how fortunate she was to have already made the climb several times, to have the muscle memory of where to grasp and step already ingrained in her hands and feet.

The window was cracked and Rey pushed it open the rest of the way with her shoulder, then rolled herself in, landing with a grunt on the padded bench that Ben had thoughtfully placed there after her second visit. She took a moment to rest, lying awkwardly on her side with her eyes closed, counting her breaths as her breathing and heart slowed enough that she felt comfortable sitting up. While she lay there she was aware that the room was not silent. There was the crackle of the fire, which she could also smell, the same rich smoke that greeted her every time she came for a visit. It was accompanied by the soft sound of fabric being moved, a gentle footstep, quiet, tuneless humming interrupted by a grunt—that made her smile—and then another noise, one that finally forced her eyes open and her head to turn.

“Water?”

Ben grinned at her as he carefully poured steaming water from a long-handled copper kettle into a likewise steaming copper tub. She sat up slowly, and he laughed out loud, sprinkling in a handful of dried herbs into the tub.

“A bath,” he finally replied, when it was clear she was not going to say anything else without a bit of prodding. “For you. In case you came.”

“For me?” Pleasure burst in Rey’s chest, tears pricked in the corner of her eyes, and her voice rose and came out much louder than she intended. The Merry Men respected her and they all took care of each other, but she wasn’t used to being cared for like this; like she was precious, worth heating water for. Her incredulous response amused Ben, and he chuckled as he dusted his palms off on his thin black trousers—linen, she thought, which would normally have been too light for the freezing weather outside. But he was red and sweating from the swelter of the fire, and from the labor of moving water from the cold barrel to the fire and then into the tub; the trousers were the only thing he wore, and they were loose, low on his hips, and showed off his ever-hardening physique. His hair was pulled back into a braid, but some strands of hair had worked themselves out and he pushed these out of his face as he took a step towards her—still seated on that padded bench before the window—and reached out a hand.

“For you. You’re just in time. Stand up, let me help you.”

Rey took Ben’s hand and allowed him to pull her forward, into the warm circle illuminated by the fire. He tutted over her cold hands and enveloped them in his own, pulled them up to his mouth so he could blow on them, one finger after another presented with the gift of his warm breath. 

“You’re so cold,” he murmured. Tired of breathing on her fingers, he pressed his lips against them, imparting yet another layer of soft warmth over her digits. “Soon enough it will be too cold for you to scale the wall.”

“I’ll return to you at Easter then, along with the risen Lord.”

Ben laughed at that, and pressed her hands against his cheek. His face, like his hands, was warm, welcoming. 

“I don’t think there’s a need to wait so long, Rey-with-the-hood.” He let her hands go and removed her cloak first, tossing it onto the bench, then unbuckled the scabbard and tossed it and the sword onto the cloak. Once those were removed he was able to get to work untying the laces at the top of her tunic. She was more than happy to let him undress her, and she stood still and watched his eyes while he did it. His voice grew serious. “But I don’t want you to fall the next time you try to climb up to me; what if it frosts, and the stones are slick? If you were to be injured I would never be able to forgive myself. No—I have borrowed a dress and wimple from the laundry, they should fit, and the next time you come, I want you to dress in them and come in through the kitchen.” He glanced up from where he was pulling her laces loose, catching her eyes. “If you plan to come. I don’t—” 

“Of course I’ll come,” she replied. It was a stupid idea—dangerous, like everything about their relationship—but he was right that climbing up the cliff and the wall was dangerous, too, and she wanted to keep seeing him. So she gave him a kiss and a smile, and held up her arms so he could pull off her shirt. The rest of her clothing came off in short order, and within a minute Ben was helping her lower herself into the bath. The copper tub was a bit cramped, she had to fold her legs to fit, and even then the water only reached to her waist. But it was warm, and smelled sweet—of the herbs that Ben had sprinkled in, lavender and mint. 

“It’s been a long time since I had a hot bath,” Rey said as Ben kneeled beside the tub and dipped a cup into the water. 

“Yes?” He pulled up a full cup and poured it slowly over her shoulders, and she shivered.

Rey hummed and closed her eyes. “I used to take them occasionally, when I was living in the castle. Not often, only a few times a year.”

Ben poured another cup over her skin, this time down her front. Water rolled down her breasts and dripped noisily into the tub. 

“I took a bath yesterday,” Ben said, setting aside the cup and picking up a clean rag. “When you didn’t come.”

Rey chuckled and leaned forward. She opened her eyes and gazed down into the water. Even with her body in the way there were still orange reflections of the fire’s glow, mirrored against the walls of the tub and dancing in the ripples caused by Ben’s movement behind her. He dipped in the rag and then there was a stronger scent—lavender again—and the warm, soft rag against her back, its track smoothed by a thin layer of soap.

“Rose’s soap,” Rey murmured, closing her eyes again and concentrating on the warmth of the water, and the scent. 

“Do you like it?” A splash, water warm across her back, the lavender-scented rag across her shoulders.

“I used to help her make it, pick lavender and gather the ashes. It was hard, hot work, but the soap always turned out beautifully.”

“Do you ever miss living in the castle?”

Rey scoffed and sat up, turned and plucked the rag out of his fingers. She dipped it back into the water and proceeded to scrub up her arms.

“No, I don’t. Living off pennies stolen from those who can least afford it, so a few people can eat meat with every meal? It was a soft life, good for _me_ , but not a fair one. Not fair for other people. I understand that now.” She paused to scrub her face, and to slow her breaths. 

“Is that what you think of me?”

There was a reason Rey avoided talking to Ben about her life. She held the rag and picked at a frayed edge.

“Ben—”

“Is that why you call me your maid? Because I am soft in a castle, instead of sleeping out in the woods, fighting against oppressors? After all, I am an oppressor too, aren’t I?”

He didn’t sound angry, he sounded sad, and a bit tired, but his words pricked her like a needle in her heart and she dropped the rag and turned around to face him, the cooling water sloshing noisily against the sides of the tub.

“Ben, no,” she insisted, cradling his face in her wet hands, stroking under his eyes with her thumbs. He kneeled, unmoving, his eyes dark and soft, glistening gently in the firelight. “I call you my maid because you are so beautiful, and sweet. And I know you train with Sir Ren, but you aren’t him. You are good, I believe this. You’re just…”

“On the wrong side,” he finished her thought.

“I think so. Sir Ren might disagree.”

“And the Sheriff. And the Prince, and the King.” Ben grasped her wrists and pressed his forehead to hers. “We’re enemies, aren’t we.”

Rey didn’t want to acknowledge the question, the answer to which was obvious to both of them, so she raised herself up on her knees, leaned over the edge of the tub, and kissed him instead. By the time a few minutes had passed the water had become quite chilly, so Ben helped her stand and wrapped her in a woolen blanket he’d been heating up by the fire. 

Rey was relaxed after the bath, and the kissing— the uncomfortable conversation she was able to push to the back of her head, an unwelcome truth that neither of them were in any position to do something about anyway. She followed Ben to the bed, dim and cool, so far from the warmth and heat of the fireplace, but pleasant because he was there. 

“Please,” she murmured, and tugged at the laces of his trousers with her right hand while holding the blanket together in front of her chest with her left. 

“Whatever my outlaw wishes for, my outlaw receives,” Ben replied, and the linen trousers were so loose that one tug was enough to make them fall down his hips and to the floor, where he kicked them aside. He gasped when Rey took his cock in her hand, and again when she dropped her blanket, settled back on the bed, and pulled him to her.

Rey wanted to be angry. It was unfair, after all. She had made a choice to leave the castle, to take on an identity opposed to the crown, to fight for what she thought was right. To make life better for the people of Nottinghamshire, of England. She couldn’t ask for Ben to make the same choice, if it was even possible. He was nobility, after all, and what was she? The illegitimate daughter of a scullery maid and a forgotten hero—or a traitor, depending on who you asked. She was nobody at all. That gave her a strange freedom, and of course Ben didn’t have that. Because of his parentage, his upbringing, his status, he had his life set out for him; he had very little freedom at all.

She couldn’t very well tell Ben how she was feeling, so she focused on his body instead. His skin, so soft and sweet even—perhaps especially—where scars were forming, evidence of his training, physical signs of their enmity. She crawled on top of him and released his braid without asking, pulling his hair out and arranging it like a halo around his head while he moaned and writhed, her cunt hot and tight around him. They came together, like a dream, their names on each other’s lips, and they fell asleep together not long after.

The light of dawn was already peeking through the window by the time they awoke. Ben insisted that she wear the dress and wimple to make her way out of the castle, and although she passed Rose on her way through the kitchen, neither of them acknowledged the other.

* * *

The first snow of winter arrived two days after Rey’s bath visit. It wasn’t an impressive blanket, just a smattering of white that collected at the bases of trees and left the thick green leaves of the holly bushes coated with hoarfrost. Rey made her way through the forest and across the field, the grass crunching under her booted feet, carrying bags of chestnuts and hawthorn berries to sell up at the castle. Today she was dressed in rags, just a poor traveler passing through, looking to trade foraged goods for food, and perhaps a bit of coin. The guard at the gate let her in without asking too many questions, and the servant who greeted her at the door to the kitchen traded fairly for the nuts and berries, slipping in an extra loaf of bread and a small parchment scroll, which neither of them acknowledged. 

Feeling good about her duty almost complete, and not wishing to rush back to the camp, Rey took her time wandering along the bailey wall towards the keep, until she heard a familiar voice that made her heart leap in her chest. It was Ben, and the idea of watching him here, without his knowledge, made her feel strange and lightheaded. She hurried around a corner and down a path, following the voices until she reached a solid wooden gate. It was too high to see over, but the wall wasn’t high and there was a tree growing not far away, so she scrambled up the slippery bark just far enough to peek over.

On the other side of the wall was the training ground, and there was Ben, in black leather trousers and a loose black shirt, the top of his hair pulled back and the rest of it left to hang down to his shoulders. It had been weeks since she’d seen him outside, since the competition, and she enjoyed how his hair, so dark in his bedroom, picked up red highlights in the light of day. He was holding a practice sword, and just as Rey focused on him he swung it down against another practice sword, that one being wielded by the horrible ginger-haired Hux, who grunted and scowled as he took the hit. Having the clear advantage Ben swung again, and again, pushing Hux further and further back, the sour man’s face growing more red with each hit. The clang of the swords and Ben’s shouts, and the sight of him mercilessly attacking the man who had caused him so much pain, delighted Rey on his behalf, and also excited her for her own reasons. She pressed her hips forward against the branch she balanced against, which helped a bit but not enough. Ben’s hands between her legs would have been preferable. She hoped she’d be able to visit him again soon, but things were finally coming together and she wasn’t sure when she’d have time to get away.

Ben had almost backed Hux against the far wall when another voice cried out, and Ben stepped away and lowered his sword. Sir Ren stepped out from the shadow of the doorway of the small building that Rey knew housed part of the castle’s armory; she’d been so distracted by the fight that she hadn’t noticed him there, and she hoped that he hadn’t noticed her, either. But if he did he made no sign of it, instead stepping quickly across the muddy training ground to speak to the other men. 

Unlike Ben and Hux, who were simply dressed, Ren was wearing fine leathers, green and brown, with a brown woolen cloak around his shoulders to protect him from the cold. Rey knew that he had business later in the day with the Sheriff, and he was dressed for it. His silver hair fell in waves around his face, which was, as always, covered. Only his cold blue eyes were visible through the brown leather mask that otherwise covered his face completely, his brow and mouth and nose and chin. It was the same mask he’d worn during the archery competition, the last time she’d seen him, and it annoyed her, not being able to see his face, not knowing what he really looked like. None of the other Merry Men had seen him, either. There were rumors that he’d been injured badly in a fight, that his face was covered with scars and that he was missing part of his jaw. Finn told Rey that he’d heard that he’d once been a good man, although something of a womanizer, and that the injury had rendered him both unattractive and cruel. Rey didn’t care; she hated him because of what he was to Ben, and what he’d done to the shire, and she hated not knowing his face.

The men were too far away for her to hear what they were saying, but she could see Ben’s face and she stayed to watch him, how his brow wrinkled and the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown as he listened to Sir Ren, how his eyes rolled at whatever Hux said next. Ben handed his sword to Ren and he and Hux stood back and watched as Ren made a complicated movement with the sword, then again, and then Ben took his sword back and he and Hux stood side by side and made the same movement three times. It was impossible for Rey to tell if Ren was satisfied or not, but he said something that made Ben nod, although he didn’t smile.

They were interrupted by a sharp knocking, and then a door on the other end of the training ground opened and Rose stepped through. Something flipped inside Rey’s belly at the sight of her; although she had seen Rose a few times since returning to Nottinghamshire, and she'd even passed her in the kitchen the last time she was in the castle, it still felt odd to be close to her. Rose had known Kira better than anyone else in the world, and now they were strangers, and it was because of choices that Rey had made—that there were things in the world that were more important to her than Rose’s love. Rey’s breath caught in her throat when she realized that she would have to make that same choice again, eventually, with Ben. Was she always to be alone, always to love people she couldn’t have? And not because of destiny, but because of her own beliefs and her desire to follow them?

Rose carried a tray, bearing what appeared to be a bowl of stew that steamed in the chill, and she curtsied towards the men before setting it down on a small table set against the wall of the armory. Rey watched her, how her body swayed under her skirt and cape, how her hair slipped out of the wimple despite, she knew, Rose’s sincere attempts to keep it covered. Rey was drawn out of her reverie when Rose called for Ben and Hux, who dutifully returned their swords to the armory, picked up their black capes where they had been hanging on hooks on the side of the building, and followed her out the way she’d come. 

Sir Ren lingered, and so did Rey, crouched on the branch, peeking over the wall. It was getting colder, and the sky was growing grey—she feared it might snow again before the day was over—and her legs were numb, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He was shorter than Ben, and thicker than Hux, a sturdy man of undetermined middle age. Rey didn’t know much about him, really, and neither did anyone else, although not for lack of trying. All the Merry Men had been able to discover is that he’d joined the king’s guard down in London fifteen or so years before, already masked; his history prior to that was unknown. He’d come up with Ben from London and for some reason had stayed, and now he was assisting the Sheriff in oppressing the citizens. While the Sheriff had been harsh before his arrival, Sir Ren seemed intent on making the situation intolerable. Since his arrival taxes had increased, and so had the punishments for nonpayment. Everyone in the shire knew someone who had been in the debtor’s prison. One of the most effective ways to get out was to agree to provide information on the Merry Men. So far people had been hesitant to do so, but how long would they hold out? They had children, families to feed. Eventually it would be easier to fold than to fight. There had also been more frequent incursions into the forest, which forced Rey’s crew further in and also necessitated more spywork than they were accustomed to. She knew that something was happening soon, and the parchment scroll in her bag would hopefully provide them with some clues as to the details of that. 

Ren approached his bowl of stew, turning his back to Rey, and she prepared to climb down until she realized that he would have to remove his mask in order to eat. This thought gave her pause, and she leaned slightly forward, her heartbeat speeding up with excitement. As she expected, a moment later he laid his mask down and picked up the bowl. He turned around to lean against the table, and as he lowered the spoon from his mouth, Rey got a very good look at his face.

She gasped and pushed herself back so quickly she almost fell out of the tree.

_She knew that face._

Rey hopped to the ground as quietly as possible and scrambled down the path. She raced across the bailey, dodging people and carts, the bag of food bouncing against her hip; she held it close to keep anything from spilling out. It was difficult to see through her tears, and all she could hear was the rushing sound of her own heartbeat. She barreled through the gate, not even hearing the shouts of the guards that followed her across the drawbridge and down the hill, across the river and the field. She finally paused for breath at the edge of the forest, collapsing behind a boulder in the cold dirt, wiping tears off her face with shaking hands.

_Sir Ren_

She’d seen him only once before, but she would never forget it. She’d been six years old, and the king’s men had arrested a group of men who were accused of treason for the crime of stealing from the crown to redistribute the wealth to the poorest people in Nottinghamshire. They were paraded in through the front gate of the castle, five of them, and little Kira had stood in the upper gallery and watched with one of the cooks; one who had taken her in after her mother had died. The cook had pointed to the man walking at the front, his head held high even though his arms and legs were bound in chains. He’d looked up at Kira, and she’d been struck by the color of his eyes, the strength of his brow and his chin. She’d waved, and he nodded at her and then turned his head back to look straight ahead again.

“Aye,” the cook had said with a chuckle. “I guess he knows you.” Kira had asked what she’d meant. “Why,” she exclaimed—as though a little child would know such things—“that’s your da! Roland Reynaud, that’s his name. Sent over from Picardy as a boy.” She’d whispered the next part, close to Rey’s ear. “He fought for the king but now he fights for us. But don’t tell, my love. They call him a traitor, but he’s a hero.”

Rey turned and vomited into the leaves beside her. Roland Reynaud—her hero, the man she’d named himself after—was a traitor to her cause. And she had no idea how to feel about that. She wrapped her arms around the bag of food, rolled onto her side, and wished that Ben was with her. _Ben_. Did he know? What would he do if he found out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I attempted a plot twist! Did you see it coming? Was it a shock? I'm so curious, please let me know what you think!
> 
> I saw some clips of Richard Armitage playing Guy of Gisborne in the 2006 BBC Robin Hood miniseries and yeah, this is basically Sir Ren aka Roland Reynaud. (Just imagine him with silver hair and you're about there)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make you wait eight months for an update and _still_ nothing here is remotely historically accurate. Oops! I hope you like it anyway. After this there's just one more chapter to go!
> 
> Please note that I've added the Graphic Violence warning and also a tag for Blood. If you want to skip the violent bit, you can skip from _**“Fight him!” Ren shouted...**_ and pick up again at _**Her horse had followed them down...**_. I'll provide a little summary of the skipped bit in the endnotes.
> 
> Also as a reminder: Rey, Jess, and Kay (aka Kaydel) are all disguised as men, and Ren, Finn and Poe think they are men, so in Rey's POV she refers to herself and them using feminine pronouns but the men use masculine pronouns to refer to them.

After a good cry and a stumble through the forest Rey finally made it back to the camp. She barely registered Finn taking the bag off her shoulder and asking her what was wrong; she ignored him and went to hide in her tent. By the time she changed back into her forest clothes Finn and Poe were waiting outside to share the news from the castle. 

“A new spy?” Rey’s eyebrows raised in surprise, looking up from the roll spread in front of her to the men standing on the other side of the table.

“Keep reading,” Finn answered, pointing back at the ink scratched against the parchment. She leaned over the flattened roll, held down by stones at each corner, and squinted in order to decipher the messy writing. It was bright outside but the light was dim in the tent, lit only by a couple of tallow candles that burned low. As the leader of the Merry Men Rey was privileged enough to have her own sleeping tent, but since it doubled as a conference space she never really had much privacy. Her pallet lurked in the corner, piled high with woolen blankets and the occasional fur. 

Rey’s excitement over the next few written lines was nearly enough to distract her from her earlier shock. 

“The Archbishop of Canterbury, coming _here_?” Both men nodded, and the corners of Finn’s mouth turned up into a grin.

“This is an opportunity like no other, Rey. We need to intercept that caravan.”

“You aren’t seriously suggesting that we rob the Archbishop of Canterbury, are you? The representative of God himself in England? That’s bold even for you.” He would travel with gold and silver, certainly, but some of that would be in the form of vessels for the Mass, and the negative attention coming out of such an attack would ruin their reputation.

“No, of course not.” He stepped around the table, Poe close behind him. “We speak to him. Force an audience, explain our displeasure. Tell him what the Sheriff is doing, how the people of Nottinghamshire are hurting, and how we are helping them. Gain his sympathy.”

Rey was skeptical. “The Bishop of Carlisle doesn’t care, he sides with the Sheriff. Why should the Archbishop be any different?”

“Rey, please,” Finn pleaded with her, Poe’s hand on his shoulder. “If we present ourselves peacefully and explain our situation, what harm can it cause?”

“He’ll have protection,” she countered. “Knights on horseback. Ren himself, probably.” His name was bitter on her tongue.

“They’ll meet Ren and his knights at Grantham,” Poe answered, finger falling back to the parchment. “Our source was explicit.”

“So if we intercept the caravan before they reach Grantham…” 

“We won’t have to deal with Ren.” Finn finished Rey’s thought with a flourish.

Rey was still skeptical, but she had to admit that it could work. And Finn was so excited at the prospect - it was just the kind of situation he’d been training himself for. She wavered. “We’ll have to allow two days. They’ll be coming up the great road from Stamford, I suppose? We can lie in wait near Colsterworth, there’s a small valley down there where we can hide, with a cave large enough for sleeping.”

She looked up to find the men grinning at her. “So we’ll do it?” Finn’s voice shook with excitement.

“We’ll do it,” Rey said. “You two, me, Jess and Kay. Not the whole group but enough of us to provide a defence should we need one. We’ll leave on Wednesday morning assuming they’ll pass Colsterworth on Friday afternoon; that should give us plenty of time.”

“Thank you,” Finn said, his hands twitching as though he’d like to give her a hug. She just smiled at him.

“Go practice your speech. And say some prayers; you’ll need all the help you can get.”

“I’ll conduct the spirit of Saint Reynaud himself! He was supposed to have the sweetest tongue, after all.” At the mention of her estranged father Rey grimaced, but he didn’t seem to notice; he turned away and dragged Poe behind him.

* * *

As soon as the men left the tent, Rey’s shock rolled right back down on her. 

_Roland Reynaud was Sir Ren, and Sir Ren was her father_.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and lowered herself onto the stool in the corner. She needed to talk, to tell _somebody_ about what she’d discovered; for her own sake. Keeping the knowledge bottled up inside her was too painful, and she had important work to do. She’d managed to keep Ben from distracting her for months, there was no way she was going to allow this news to distract her either. She considered calling Finn and Poe back in and telling them, but only for a moment. Finn idolized Reynaud, mentioned him frequently - he’d just mentioned him in their meeting! The secret would destroy him; it would destroy the hope of countless others, and Rey wasn’t about to let that happen.

There was only one other person that Rey could share the secret with: Ben. She wasn’t sure what he would do with it, but she trusted him. After all, he knew her father as one of the great traitors, and he hadn’t judged her for that, why would he judge her if he turned back to the crown? 

Somehow Rey made it through the afternoon and evening. Everyone was in high spirits, and after nightfall Jess lit a bonfire and Poe brought out some of the bottles of wine he’d been saving for a special occasion.

“We haven’t converted the Archbishop yet,” Rey admonished him as she accepted her own mug of the sweet red liquid.

“Sir Rey,” Poe laughed, handing a mug off to another soldier. “Such a serious man you are. We have a plan, and we have hope. Surely that’s worth celebrating.”

She supposed he had a point.

Hours later, after the others had finished their wine and ale and had slipped off to bed or to the watch, and the fire had turned to ash, Rey sneaked around the watch and made her way back to the castle as quickly as she could. The night was frigid, so cold that her breath froze around her lips, and absolutely silent. The only sound was her own footsteps crunching through the frozen underbrush, and the rush of the river, once she was close enough to hear it. Eventually the bells would sound, but it wasn’t yet midnight so there were still two hours to Vigil. The moon was near full, and it hung low above the castle, looming at the top of the cliff, reflected in the flowing river.

The dress and wimple were in her bag, and as much as she’d rather climb the wall and enter Ben’s chamber through the window as usual, she had promised not to do that again, at least not until the spring thaw. Unfortunately the castle gates would be locked, and although she might be able to bribe her way in so late at night, depending on who was guarding the gates it could be dangerous for her. Upon reaching the river she crossed in her boat as usual, but once on the bank she cut left, walking parallel to the road and then around and up the hill, until she came to the orchard wall. She was able to climb there, and given the late hour she wasn’t too worried about being discovered. After she pulled the dress over her head and slipped on the wimple, taking care to tuck her hair under (and smiling as she thought about Rose, with her hair always curling out), she made her way through the orchard and then through into the bailey, keeping close to the wall until she reached the kitchen door. The door was locked, but a quick knock found it open; the child who sleepily pulled the door barely looked at her as she slipped in, which is exactly what she expected. She’d found herself in the same situation as a girl, and she said a brief prayer of thanks that the little girl cared for security as much as she had, back when she’d been a child sleeping in the kitchen. 

Finally feeling more comfortable now that she was in the castle keep, Rey rushed through the kitchen and into the hall; the fire in the hearth was kept burning overnight, which helped to warm the room, the shadows of flame flickering against the tapestries that lined the stone walls. But once out of the hall the chill touched he bones, and Rey sped up again until she reached the corridor where Ben’s chamber was located. As she padded up the stairs and turned the corner she allowed herself to unlock some of the emotion she’d kept bottled up since the morning, and she could almost taste the relief of being comforted by Ben. The corridor ran the whole south side of the castle and Rey scurried as quickly as she dared, hoping she sounded more like a mouse than a horse. She was only feet away from the heavy wooden door that marked her target when it started to open.

Rey acted on instinct, darting behind a tapestry. Her heart was beating so fast she was certain that whoever was out there could hear it, and she had to hold her breath to keep from gasping. Perhaps it was simply Ben sneaking out for a late night snack, and she thought that she had perhaps overreacted when she heard voices - no, Ben was certainly not alone. The voices were whispers, however, and she couldn't make out any words. Footsteps moved past her, down the corridor the way she’d come, and the door clicked shut. She peeked out once the footsteps had faded, and even though the corridor was dim, lit only by the occasional torch, she was very sure that she recognized the two people, who walked arm-in-arm and with their heads drawn close together, as they reached the end of the corridor and turned together into the stairwell. The shorter one, wearing a simple dress and with her head uncovered and a braid tucked over the shoulder, could only be Lady Rose. And the other one, much taller and thinner, a shock of ginger hair announcing his identity, was most definitely Ben’s despised rival, Armitage Hux.

Rey stood for a moment in the middle of the corridor, her despair temporarily replaced with confusion. What on earth were Hux and Rose doing, sneaking out of Ben’s chambers so late at night? And why were the two of them looking so friendly, walking so close? Everything that Rey had heard or seen regarding Hux led her to believe that he was horrible, and she couldn’t deny the cold sliver of jealousy that stabbed her at the thought of him touching Rose. 

_That’s no longer your place_ , she reminded herself. _Your place is with the resistance - with the Merry Men_.

 _Ben_. A smaller part of her insisted. _Your place is with Ben_.

She turned back around and tapped softly against the door, which opened almost immediately. Ben stood tall, dressed in soft black leggings and that blue silk shirt again, lit softly from behind by the fire that burned merrily in the hearth. A red ribbon dropped from his right hand, his left one just pushing though his hair, loosening what must have been a ponytail just moments ago. His eyes widened in shock at seeing her there, but he wasted no time; he grabbed her and tugged her through the door, then pulled her into a kiss before she could ask about Hux and Rose. 

The shock of it overwhelmed her, and she pushed against his shoulders even as she was desperate for his touch. 

“No…. no,” she sobbed, and Ben released her, but cradled her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes with sudden concern.

“Rey, what happened? Did you… oh no. Look, it’s not…”

“Ren,” she finally choked out though tears that were somehow rolling down her cheeks. “It’s Ren.”

This was apparently not what Ben expected to hear, but his concern only hardened. “What did he do to you? I’ll kill him myself, if he…”

“Nothing!” She cried out, desperate to get a word in. “Please, can we…” she gestured towards the fire, and a minute later they sat together on pillows scavenged from Ben’s bed, a thick woolen blanket paired with the dancing flames keeping them warm. Once she was comfortably in Ben’s arms, his breath warm against the crown of her head, she was able to continue. She wanted to tell him everything.

“I saw you today. Training in the yard, with Hux and Ren.” She toyed with the ribbon, paused to glance up at him. His skin glowed in the soft light of the fire; he looked at her, but waited for her to continue. “After you left for the meal, I stayed to watch Ren. I thought…” she shifted uncomfortably at the memory, “I thought, he would need to take off his mask to eat. I wanted to see his face. Have you seen his face?”

Ben shook his head slowly. “Never his whole face, he always keeps at least part of it covered. I will admit that it is unnerving.”

“I saw it,” Rey said. “He took off his mask so he could eat, and I saw his face.” She sobbed into Ben’s shoulder, and he stroked her arm and her back and waited. “I know who he is.” Her voice was a whisper, so quiet she wasn’t even sure Ben could hear her. But of course he did.

“Who is he? Tell me.”

She rolled over in his lap, burying her face in his chest and curling her knees up into his side. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, if he holds her tightly enough the pain will go away.

“Roland Reynaud.” 

She spoke the words into the soft fabric of Ben’s shirt. He gasped, and clutched her tightly to his chest.

“My God.” His voice reflected her own horror and shock, and the fact that he seemed to feel that, too, made the pain in her chest loosen, just a little bit. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said, looping the ribbon around her wrist as she spoke. “I saw him once, when I was a child. After he was finally caught here, in the castle, and they walked him out. I saw him, and one of the cooks told me who he was, and that he was my da.” She released a shuddery breath and tried to hold in the tears that threatened to come along with it. “But him being my da… that’s not the worst thing.”

“It’s not?” Ben’s eyebrows raised in surprise, as though he couldn’t imagine what else could be worse than finding out that Sir Ren is actually your long lost father. Rey had to hold in her laugh of disbelief. She tried to explain.

“No, Ben. The Merry Men look up to him as their greatest hero. Finn _worships_ him. Can you imagine what would happen to my men if they found out that _Ren_ is Roland Reynaud? It would destroy them.”

Ben was quiet for several long moments, the crackle of the fire and the soft sound of their breathing and the movement of the ribbon between her fingers the only sound. Rey could almost hear him thinking. 

“But what about you?” Ben asked the question slowly, quietly, and his hand eased up her back so his fingers could tangle in the short hairs at the base of her neck. “How do _you_ feel? You’re the only one I care about.”

Ben’s words - filled with caring and devotion for _her_ , her as a person and not as a leader of a movement, were all the permission she needed to break down. She couldn’t even speak; all she could do was sob, wetting his shoulder and chest as he held her, patiently rubbing her back and her hair and stroking her, rocking her gently, making soft noises that might have been words of comfort or encouragement, but Rey couldn’t discern them. But she understood Ben, knew that he was there for her, that he would comfort her no matter what. She didn’t think she’d ever felt that way before, not even with Rose, and the sweetness of it made her heart ache.

“Disappointed,” she was finally able to choke out, once most of the sobbing was through. “I’m so disappointed.” How could she possibly explain it? She did her best. “I thought I was somebody. I thought I mattered, because of him. Because he was my father, and he was so good - even though I never told anyone my parentage, _I_ knew. He fought for what was right. But now…” she paused to wipe her tears against the soft blue silk of Ben’s shirt; he didn’t complain or say a single word, just waited for her, again. She loved how he waited for her so patiently; patience she was sure she didn't deserve. “What am I? My father is a traitor. He’s my enemy.”

“ _I’m_ your enemy,” Ben said softly. 

Rey couldn’t kiss him fast enough. She twisted in his lap again, turned until she faced him, her knees on either side of his hips, and pressed her mouth to his. It was messy and violent, all teeth and tears, but Ben met her where she was and gave to her as well as she gave to him. She was careful pulling his beautiful silk shirt over his head, but once that was off they were less deliberate, tugging at laces and shifting hems; his mouth on her breast and his hand between her legs. And then she lost her balance and fell over and he was there, rolling on top of her, whining in her ear, his cock thick and hard, sliding where she needed it, where he knew she needed it. 

“You,” he whispered. “Rey.” He said her name like it was the _Ave Maria_ , a prayer just for him. _Rey, Rey, Rey_. And he said more too, as he held her down and moved inside her and wiped her tears that just would not stop falling. “You’re everything,” he said. “You’re everything to me.”

Later - after she shuddered on his cock and he spent himself on her stomach - he carried her to his bed and tucked her in, curling in behind her like the fiddlehead of a fern.

Rey woke up before dawn, roused Ben with her mouth and rode him until she cried his name against his neck and he spilled again. It felt like a dream, and even after she rolled out from under the blankets and pulled on her wimple she couldn’t quite believe the last day had happened. He laid logs and stoked the fire while she waited by the door, still not ready to leave even though she knew it was time.

“Thank you,” she said, when he finally stood and wiped the ash from his hands off on his trousers. 

“Rey,” he said, and her heart clenched again at the sound of her name, spoken with his voice. He walked across the room to her and kissed her, so gently. She didn’t want to let him go.

“It will be a few weeks before I can visit again,” she said, stepping back and setting her hand on the latch of the door. The Merry Men would be waking, as would the castle, and she needed to leave. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, as he leaned in to give her one last, soft kiss. 

She felt too heavy as she slipped out the door and down the deserted corridor, every step taking her further away from Ben and closer to her world. It was only when she reached the stairwell that she realized she’d forgotten to ask him why Rose and Hux were visiting him. She considered going back, but walked forward more quickly instead; she’d see him once their audience with the Archbishop was done, and she would be sure to ask him then.

* * *

The sun rose over the valley near Colsterworth clear and bright. The ground and trees were covered with a blanket of new snow, and as Rey stepped out of the cave they’d camped in overnight she thought she might go blind with its brilliance. 

“I hope this snow doesn’t hold up the caravan,” Finn grumbled into his mug and tugged his cloak closer to his neck. The five of them - Finn, Rey, Poe, Jess, and Kay - sat on logs arranged around a small fire, which Poe had been able to light earlier despite the dampness. They were dressed in their finest garments, handsome leathers and thick wool cloaks with gold thread and embroidery in the fabric masks they would use to hide their faces when the time came. Poe even had on a shining chest plate that was engraved with the outline of a tree. Rey had no idea where he might have found it, and he wasn’t telling. 

“We have enough food to wait for three days,” Rey pointed out, “and we can hunt if it comes to that. But I don’t think it will.”

Jess, who had been watching the sky, looked across the fire at Rey. “Sky’s clear, and it feels clear, if you know what I mean. I don’t think we’ll have more snow today.”

Later, after Jess and Kay took two of the horses and ventured back up to the road, where they could keep a lookout for the approaching caravan, Finn pulled Rey aside.

“I hope Jess is right, but what if he’s not? What if they get stuck? How long can we wait?”

Rey didn’t know. She said a prayer and made herself comfortable next to a tree, where she’d be sure to hear any approaching hoofbeats. As she waited she stomped her heels against the ground to keep her feet from going numb, and tried no to think about how much warmer she’d be if Ben was there with her.

It was midafternoon and the sun was just beginning to shine thick beams low through the trees when Kay and Jess returned, breathless.

“They’re coming,” Kay said from her steed, while Jess dismounted and ran for the white flag, attached high on a pole. “They’re close. Two miles away, give or take.”

“They have three carriages,” Jess added. “We believe the Archbishop is in the center carriage. He likely has someone in there with him, although there’s no way to tell. Six knights on horseback, wearing mail. They’re heavily armed.”

“Rey, are you sure we should go in without weapons?” Finn asked, as he toyed with the mask hanging around his neck, just waiting for the moment it would be tugged up and over his mouth and nose. 

“Standing in the road with swords at our hips is going to be taken as a sign of aggression. If you want your audience with the Archbishop you need to look as innocent and as harmless as possible.” They’d gone over the plan many times, but Rey knew it wouldn’t hurt to explain it again. “Finn, Poe, and Jess, you three go stand in the road as we’ve discussed. I’ll hold your swords here, and Poe I’ll take your bow and your quiver. Keep your daggers in your boots, just in case. Not you, Finn. They’ll search you and if they find a dagger on you they’ll slit your throat in a heartbeat. Kay and I will stay here with the horses, and we’ll be armed and ready should anything happen.” The men and Jess grumbled, but they all handed over their weapons. Finn’s hands shook as he handed her his dagger, and once she secured it to her horse along with the others she took them in her own, squeezing them.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said quietly. “We’ll all be there if something goes wrong. We’ll protect you.”

“I’m not afraid. I just want him to listen to me. I hope he’ll listen.” Finn’s eyes belied his words - Rey believed that he was terrified, no matter what he said - but she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile along with a pat on his shoulder.

“I have hope that he will.”

He did.

When the Archbishop’s caravan entered the valley where they found three men in the road. Their faces were covered but they were well-dressed, unarmed, and held a white flag on a tall pole. The caravan stopped as soon as they saw the road was blocked, several yards away. There was a ravine on the left side of the road that was blocked by boulders and the guards couldn’t see in, but they assumed there were more men there, lying in wait. The man in the center of the group stepped forward and called out a request for an audience with the Archbishop. He spoke with authority, and they assumed he was their leader. He said that he wished to discuss the current situation of the people living in and around the city of Nottingham, which he claimed was unreasonable and untenable, and he believed that, with the support of the Archbishop, things might improve. The Archbishop had heard of the Merry Men of Nottingham Forest, of course, and he assumed that was who these people were. He probably shouldn’t have, but he was bored from days of travel and he accepted the request. The young man in the road, who insisted on being called _Huit Sept_ (“because men are only numbers in the eyes of the king!”) was searched carefully and when he was found to be completely unarmed he was allowed to enter the Archbishop’s carriage.

As the minutes passed, Rey became restless, and she could tell that the others were becoming restless, too. Poe and Jess, still standing up on the road, stomped their feet and blew on their gloved hands, trying to stay warm. There was no way that the Archbishop’s guards didn’t know that there were more of them off the road, and Rey was worried that if Finn took too long they might become restless, too, and decide to come around the boulders and take a look. 

Several things happened at once.

Poe shouted to Finn. From her position she couldn’t see the caravan, but she could see Poe and she knew that his shout meant that Finn was out of the carriage. Jess, who had been leaning against the pole topped with the white flag, straightened both the flag and herself, standing tall and holding the flag up. The hoot of an owl sounded, and Rey knew that was Kay, on the other side of the road and with a clear view of the crowd, indicating that all was clear. She waited for Finn to reappear, and just when she had allowed herself to relax the sound of hoofbeats echoed dully through the snow.

It was a team of knights, riding from the direction of Grantham, and they were approaching fast. Rey mounted the closest horse and urged it up the slope and onto the road. With a shout she released the swords and tossed them to the ground, where the others grabbed them. Kay, on the other horse, had her own sword, and Rey pulled out her bow and readied her quiver, her sword already strapped to her hip. Once armed, Jess hauled the white flag in front of them all, waving it high as the knights drew closer. 

But as the approaching knights seemed neither to waver or slow, dread grew in Rey’s gut. Despite the frigid weather, sweat broke across her brow. She knew those knights - the colors of the castle of Nottingham decorated their reins, the red and blue a clear contrast with the shining white of the surrounding snow. There were ten of them at least.

“We have a white flag!” Rey cried, desperate, holding her hands up in supplication, as did the others. “White flag!” The others joined in the cry, and she could hear some of the Archbishop’s party calling out as well.

But Ren’s knights didn’t slow. Rey knew that the Archbishop’s men wouldn’t come to their defense, and with only five of them they were looking at a potential bloodbath. To avoid death, the only choice was to escape through the forest.

“Run!” she screamed, urging her horse past Jess and drawing an arrow. “Take a horse and run. We’ll be right behind you.”

Jess dropped the pole and ran. Finn stood still, shocked, until Rey notched her arrow and Poe dragged him down into the ravine. She let the arrow fly, barely aiming. But muscle memory didn’t lie, and one of the knight’s horses stumbled, throwing its rider.

Rey watched the animal fall, and carefully gauged the build of the knight, who slipped off the animal’s back and rolled away before he could be crushed.

 _A small man. Not Ben_.

Ben.

It was only at this point that Rey considered that Ben was probably among these men. What would she do if she came face-to-face with her most beloved enemy? 

She prayed that she was wrong, that for some reason Ben was left at the castle, that he was not among the knights sent to intercept them. 

“Go!” She screamed at Kay, quickly realizing that the two of them were no match for ten knights, no matter how true her aim. “I’m right behind you!”

It happened so quickly, afterwards Rey wasn’t able to think of it as anything other than a nightmare.

Ren advanced, his helmet distinctive, and his violence threw her from her mount. Then he was dismounted, too; advancing and advancing. She traded her bow for her sword and met him where he stood. He was larger, and strong, and wore proper armor, but she was angry and was able to knock him to the ground. The other knights had dismounted as well, and when Ren looked up from where he laid on the ground, only one of them remained nearby. 

“Fight him!” Ren shouted, and Rey didn’t wait for the knight. She advanced, striking at him and parrying his blows. It had been months since her last battle, and she allowed herself to sink into it as she might sink into a warm bath - her senses both softened and sharpened, aware of everything happening around her as well as of the beating of her own heart. The knight fought her well, with a rhythm that felt natural and strange, and her brain and her heart both rebelled against the familiarity. And he was holding back, she was certain; pulling back his blows to avoid striking her with his full strength. She was certain that she knew this knight, knew him intimately, but still prayed that she was mistaken. 

Although she was able to beat the knight back, they moved too close to the edge of the road, and fell together down the ravine. The knight rolled over twice before picking himself up and readying himself for battle once more, but his helmet was lost in the fall, and when he stood up his head was naked.

Rey cursed herself, and Ren, and God himself, because the man standing in front of her, clad in armor and sword at the ready, was Ben, as she had feared. Her Ben. 

But not today. Today, he was Ren’s Ben, a knight of Nottingham castle, and Ren was yelling at him to fight. 

“That’s Rey-with-the-Hood!” He cried down the slope, the other knights there, ready to fight at the order. But Rey understood what was happening - Ren was giving Ben an opportunity. The chance to prove himself - the chance to show his loyalty, both to Ren himself and to the crown. “Kill him!” The knight shouted. “Kill him for the crown!” 

Ben stared at her, unmoving. Rey couldn’t help but notice his hair, braided back at the sides so to keep it out of his face. _Such a pretty maid_ , her mind supplied, and she quickly pushed that thought back behind her heart. But his features were etched in misery, from the shining wetness of his eyes to the pulled-down corners of his sweet mouth. They stood there, facing each other, the voices of Ren and the other knights crying down to Ben to _kill, kill, kill_. But Ben did not make a move. Instead he stood still, until at last his blade began to move, slowly, down.

Now matter what Rey felt about Ben in her heart of hearts, she did not believe that he would be willing to kill her. But she was also not willing to see him sacrifice himself for her. 

There was only one choice.

Rey screamed and advanced, with all the strength she had. Ben, taken by surprise, raised his sword to block her blows, but he was too slow. She left him on his back, lying in the snow, fat drops of blood spattering in the white around his head. She stumbled, silence ringing in her ears, her heartbeat heavy in her chest. She had to get away.

Her horse had followed them down into the ravine, and she was barely aware of mounting it before they were barrelling through the forest for what could have been minutes or hours. By the time she reached the road again, miles past Grantham, the sun had set and the knights had long since given up the chase. Exhausted and heartbroken, Rey set up camp on instinct - setting up her tent and bedroll, lighting a small fire, melting snow for water. She hurt all over, her body and her heart. She was horrified at what she’d done and tried to think of the good instead; Finn had met with the Archbishop, and his men had not fought against her alongside Ren’s knights. They had allowed them to escape.

But as Rey settled down to sleep, the forest quiet and cold around her, she knew that everything had changed. She would never touch Ben again, never feel his lips against hers, never again struggle with him to reach ecstasy together. She would never be able to tell her that she loved him. _She loved him_. Through no choice of her own she had sealed their fate, and she wept at the loss. She thought about sweet Ben, and all she could see in her mind’s eye was the shocked expression of her dear enemy as she kicked him to the ground and sliced her sword across his face.

He would never forgive her; there was no going back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER!
> 
> I promise I won't make you wait eight months for the conclusion <3
> 
> **Summary of the violent bit: Rey and Ben fight with swords, Rey knocks Ben down and slices his face open.**
> 
> If you like this please leave some kudos or a little comment, they make my heart go pitter-pat.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this you might also like my fic [All Clean](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807073/chapters/44625034), in which Rey is a horny witch who lives in a vaguely medieval time and likes to fuck - each chapter she meets a different version of Kylo Ben - first a satyr, then a man made of mushoom, then a centaur who only speaks horse. Mind the tags!
> 
> I also write [romantic fics](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801348), [dark and horror fics](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1170431), and a few [canonverse fics](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801360).
> 
> If you'd like more medieval-ish tales where Rey is disguised as a boy, I have you covered there too!
> 
> [The Gift of the River by persimonne](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697778)  
> [The Raven Prince & The Desert Shrike by MizTooka](archiveofourown.org/works/27835435)
> 
> These are both fantastic and you should read them right now!
> 
> I'm @flowerofcarrots on Twitter, come say hi!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Compline Bells](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491944) by [IAmYourCaptainNow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmYourCaptainNow/pseuds/IAmYourCaptainNow)




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